BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga
by Cyberwraith9
Summary: Danger, mystery and intrigue follow the intrepid teenagers as they battle their way across a strange and unforgiving new world.  Will the quest for the most powerful new technology end in disaster? =Complete=
1. Cut

=Author's Note=  
Okay, this one is not quite as thrilling as I had hoped. However, here it is; the first installment of BadgeQuest's Hidden Machine Saga. Be prepared to change the way you see Pokémon and the BadgeQuest story itself. Or, you could just read the story...  
  
=Legal Disclaimer=  
Pokémon is a registered trademark of Nintendo and Game Freak. Any and all original characters included in the story are not to be duplicated without prior consent...although, it's not like I would ever know, considering how many, MANY fanfictions are out there. And it's not like I could really do anything about it, either. Look, just don't steal Dixie, okay?  
  
  
BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
01- Cut  
  
Jessie snuggled up tightly against the soft, downy folds of her well-worn sleeping bag, moaning with pleasure as that wonderful feeling of blissful restfulness settled over her. The rising sun threatened to peek in on her, shining through the tiniest of cracks in her tent's defense, but that hardly concerned her. After a solid week of searching, she, James, and Meowth had been completely baffled as to the trail of their elusive targets. It was the first time in a long time they hadn't been able to capture Pikachu...or at least, 'attempt' to capture. None of that was an issue, though. Right now, all Jessie cared about was staying in that sleeping bag all day and snoozing until late afternoon.  
  
"Jessie!"  
  
The feminine Rocket tried desperately to ignore the frantic cries of her counterpart, if not for her own sake, then for his; if he got her out of this bed right now, it would most likely mean that she was going to have to kill him.  
  
"Jess-ie!"  
  
...And now she would have to kill Meowth as well. Wonderful. "Where am I going to find a replacement pair of idiots for the ones I'm about to frag?" she mumbled, still half asleep as she sat up, her stiff, swooping hair brushing the top of the green army tent. Rubbing the sleep from her bloodshot eyes with delicate hands, Jessie pulled on her black sleeveless top and a pair of sweat pants. "James, Meowth," she muttered in a deadly tone as she exited the tent, "I'm not sure what all the fuss is about, and I don't c-" she stopped, frozen in place. The buzzing of nature in the dark Vermont forest seemed to freeze in step with Jessie as she halted her threat.  
  
There was a man she had never seen before, standing calmly next to the roaring fire that James had constructed earlier this morning. His appearance was strange...and to appear strange to a Rocket master of disguise was truly a feat of tremendous proportions. He stood taller than either Jessie or James, with sparkling silver hair that jutted upwards in short, sweeping spikes. His face was unreadable, but his body language was unmistakable; wiry muscles drawn tight, eyes darting back and forth, and hand kept near a long, sheathed saber. This was not a man she wanted to screw with.  
  
"Uh...hello?" she asked a thousand questions with a single word, tilting her head with curiosity.  
  
He glanced over at her, sizing her up with his cold, cobalt eyes. "My name is Alpha." he said in a low, smooth, crisp voice. "Giovanni told me I could expect to find you while tracking the targets." He looked back to the forest, searching it for something. "You will assist me."  
  
"Listen, Mister...Alpha?" she stopped, wondering why that name caused a flash of fear and panic within her. He was obviously a member of Team Rocket, but what kind of code name was Alpha? The only agents that used words like that for pseudonyms were...Oh God. She exchanged glances with James and Meowth, who confirmed her fears.  
  
Omega Red.  
  
It was a name whispered back in the hallowed halls of Headquarters, never said aloud for fear of drawing the attention of those who held the title. They were the cream of the crop, the elite, hand-picked by Giovanni himself. They were his best agents, used for the most important missions. Assassination, infiltration, covert operation...any time one of Giovanni's competitors was found mysteriously dead in their homes, the name Omega Red was passed around Headquarters like a secret password.  
  
And now, one of them was standing right in their camp, as calmly as could be.  
  
"Yes?" Alpha swung around to face her again, his eyebrow raised with curiosity.  
  
Jessie rubbed the back of her neck, grinning nervously. "Um...would it be all right if we stopped for breakfast before we went to kill this target of yours?" she stopped, frowning. "Who is the target, anyway?"  
  
"Breakfast will be fine." he said. "It will be of little consequence..." his hand drew the saber on his hip quick as a flash. He made several lightning strikes, the blade singing as it cut through the morning chill. "A small reprieve for Ash Ketchum."  
* * *  
  
Unaware that there was yet 'another' person in the immediate area trying to kill him, Ash Ketchum shoveled Brock's delicious breakfast stew into his mouth as if it were his last meal. He hadn't thought it possible to make a thick soup out of traditional breakfast ingredients-sausage, bacon, toast...even eggs-but their Rock Master had managed to come through with another culinary delight. Pikachu sat next to its trainer, its tiny black nose buried up to the snout in a tiny dish of Brock's breakfast. Like Ash, Pikachu only stopped eating to come up for large breaths of air. Dixie sat atop a log, facing the pair. Her spoon was halfway to her mouth, frozen with fascination as she observed Ash's eating habits.  
  
"My god..." she whispered, mesmerized, "It's like something offa the Discovery Channel..."  
  
Brock set his empty bowl down, reaching for the pot's ladle in order to pour himself another bowl. "Nah," he remarked to Dixie, "That's taking way too much away from all those cute little animals on Discovery."  
  
"Very funny." Ash shot from around a mouthful of soup. Slurping the last tidbit from the bowl, he wiped his mouth on the back of his gloved hand and sighed, patting his stomach. "That was fan-tastic, Brock. What's for lunch?" He picked his hat up off of the ground where he had set it for the meal, brushing it off and tugging the bill down over his brow.  
  
Brock looked through their collective supplies, shaking his head. "We might have to skip lunch today, Ash...I don't know this area very well, and I'm not sure where the next place to pick up more supplies'll be." Brock began to pack up some of the cooking tools, setting aside the ones that needed to be washed. "It's not like we're in the city anymore."  
  
Ash and Pikachu sighed in unison, both depressed about the fact that their stomachs wouldn't know food until sometime that evening. "Man, it's too bad there isn't a city nearby...I could really go for some tacos, or maybe some Chinese food."  
  
Dixie tilted her head, regarding Ash curiously. "Didn't y'all eat that stuff all the time at home?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Chinese food, I mean."  
  
Ash looked at her as one might look at an Eevee that had just evolved into a Tauros. "What in the world are you talking about?"  
  
"Chinese food..." Dixie was confused as well. "You know, 'cause you're...Chinese, right?"  
  
Ash exchanged glances with Brock and Pikachu, still not quite understanding. "Um, no. I was born on the Island...my dad was from Japan, and my mom was a native, just like me."  
  
Dixie looked flustered, covering her wide-open mouth. "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry..." she stammered, "I just assumed from the eyes...Oh god, I'm doing it again. I'm sorry, I'm sooo sorry, I-"  
  
Ash laughed, picking up Pikachu and placing the Pokémon on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he chuckled, "You're acting like you just backed over my favorite Pokémon with a truck." Pikachu squealed at this, chittering and sparking at the cheeks in protest.  
  
"Well, it's just...here in America," Dixie tried to explain herself, "We try to be really careful about insulting people of other races."  
  
"Well, out on the Island, we don't give a Ratticate's butt about what race a person is." Brock chuckled. This got Ash and Pikachu laughing even harder, which made Dixie feel a little better. "Still, though, it might be a good idea to keep a low profile while we're here. Which means that you, Ms. Mason," he pointed at her with his ladle, "Are going to be our guide to America. So keep us in line, and make sure Ash doesn't do something that would get us arrested or sued."  
  
Now it was Dixie's turn to laugh. She stood up, sauntering over to Ash. "If that's the case, then the first thing we need t'change is this." She yanked Ash's cap off of his head. Ash protested loudly, until she slipped it back onto his scalp, reversed from its previous position. "No one wears their cap the right way anymore. If you want to blend, you'll keep it like that."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Ash saluted, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. Dixie gave him a thwap upside the skull, which got them all laughing and carrying on once more. Only the sound of a throat being cleared loudly caught their attention away, shifting it over to a dripping wet Misty. She stood on the outer edge of their fire's circle, bare feet scraping against the dirty forest floor, a pair of towels her only protection from the elements. One was wrapped around a gigantic mound of sopping wet hair, and the other clung tightly to her body, covering her coverables.  
  
"Ugh," she said, tugging on her towel, "I had forgotten exactly why I hate camping out so much." She walked over to her tent, entering carefully so as not to give her friends an eyeful of something they didn't need to see. "I'm done. The river's free, and it is CO-OLD." She disappeared into her tent to change.  
  
Ash and Pikachu chuckled at Misty's complaints as Brock grabbed his own washing gear, as well as a towel. "Chinese," Brock chortled, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "That's a good one." He started his walk to the river, but was pulled back at Dixie's protest.  
  
"So then where do y'all guys come from?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity. "I mean, I've told you guys about me, and my family, but don't know anything about you."  
  
That gave Brock pause. "Well, we were all born on the Island..." he started with a shrug, retaking his seat on the log. "Me, I come from a family with a whole mess of brothers and sisters. I'm the oldest." Brock couldn't help but smile at the memory of his plethora of siblings. He was starting to miss them fiercely. Perhaps a quick visit sometime soon would be a good idea. "I ran the gym out of Pewter City. Brock 'The Rock' Stone." he flexed a bit, drawing a laugh from Ash, Dixie, and a pika-giggle from Pikachu.  
  
"Well, so now we know about 'The Rock,' but what about Misty?" Dixie glanced over at the shaking tent, presumably where the Water Mistress was still dressing.  
  
"Cerulean Gym Leader." Misty called out, grunting. "Three sisters [darn pants, c'mon!], all of 'em unbearable. Parents are constantly [you stupid pants, you fit just last week!] on the road, they like to globetrot and see [I'm gonna freaking KILL someone if the river water shrunk these!] the world. I left with Ash after he and Pikachu blew up my bike." A loud thudding sound followed the end of her story, followed by a string of cursing, and finally, a cry of success. Misty emerged from the tent with a hairbrush in hand, her clothes in place. She smiled uneasily. "Uh...button wasn't undone."  
  
Ash blinked. "Right..."  
  
Dixie began digging through her bag, obviously in search of something. "What about you, Ash?" she asked with her head half-buried among her traveling gear. "Misty and Brock are just along for the ride; what're you doing so far from home...besides this little chore." Dixie nearly snorted at her own words; calling the quest for her grandfather's greatest works a mere chore. It was almost funny. "I mean, Pokémon Island is *the* place to be for an up-and-coming trainer."  
  
Ash smiled, sharing a glance with Pikachu. "I'd hardly call a former League Champion an "up-and-comer," but-"  
  
"Oh, heavens no!" Misty clutched the sides of her face in mock horror, gasping. "Why, Dixie, don't you know? This is *THE* Ash Ketchum."  
  
Brock couldn't help but get in on the fun. "Yeah!" he grinned, gesturing with his hand as if giving a proclamation to the people across the land. "Ashlan Terrance Ketchum himself. Why, he's battled Team Rocket supercriminals..."  
  
"Horrifying genetic monsters," Misty added, patting Ash on the head. He took the ribbing with good humor, at least until he could figure out how to get them back.  
  
"Legendary birds bent on destroying the world,"  
  
"Insane megalomaniac geniuses bent on taking over the world,"  
  
"Ancient evil that would suck the brain right outta your head,"  
  
"And all the while," Misty finished off, folding her arms and resting her elbows on Ash's head as if he were a table, "Coping with a desperately crippling lack of talent, brains, and common sense." Her armrest sighed heavily, heaving the lithe redhead off of himself.  
  
Dixie pulled herself out of the bag, holding up her hands as a sign of defeat. "Okay, okay!" she laughed, her southern accent pleading for mercy. "Sounds like y'all guys have seen a lot."  
  
"A lot? We've seen it all." Ash wrapped an arm around Misty's and Brock's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Pikachu leapt on top of his head, completing the invincible quartet. "There's nothing we haven't seen, nothing we can't do."  
  
"So then why'd y'all leave?"  
  
Ash opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. His jaw snapped shut as he strained his mind to find an answer. Why was he here? Well, because Professor Oak had asked him to come...no, he had been planning on coming to America even before Oak had called him about the HMs. Well, then it had been because America was the next logical choice in his journey; it had some of the toughest competition on the planet, and if he was ever going to complete his quest-  
  
What was his quest, anyway?  
  
"Uhhhh..."  
  
"Tell ya what," Dixie pulled a pile of clothes, towels, and soaps from her bag, bundling them up in her arms. "I'm gonna go hit the river. You stay here and think about it, then tell me when I get back...and no peeking." She turned on her heel, making her way towards the river.  
  
"Huh? But I thought-"  
  
"I needed a distraction to get my stuff together so I could go ahead of Brock." Dixie called over her shoulder before she disappeared into the brush.  
  
"That little sneak!" Brock tossed his ladle down onto the pile of other dirty dishes, snorting in disgust. Ash, however, was still lost in thought. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to leave his home. Adventure? He had already experienced more than most do in a lifetime, and then some. Fame? He didn't need it, didn't want it, and didn't care about it. Destiny? His destiny was already set, and it never said anything about gallivanting around the globe. What had it been?  
* * *  
  
"Badges!"  
  
The outburst startled Ash's friends, who had been enjoying the peaceful hike through the forest up until then. After all morning preparations and duties had been fulfilled, Brock had borrowed Ash's wrist-complete with its Pokégear accessory-and found a suitable town for their next stop no more than a day's hike away.  
  
Dixie looked at him as if he had grown a Nidoking's horn out of his forehead. "What in the world are you talking about?"  
  
Ash beamed triumphantly, obviously proud of the results of his memory-straining remembrance. "Badges! That's why I left the Island." When her confused appearance failed to vanish, he continued, "I had already earned all the badges I could on the Island, or anywhere near it. You know; Indigo, Johto, Orange..." He could feel his Indigo badges pressed up against his chest inside his jacket. He had left his other badges with his mother for safekeeping. "Wow. What with all the world-saving stuff and the League, I must've forgotten."  
  
"World-saving stuff?" Dixie was now more confused than ever. "What are you talk-"  
  
"Ohhh, I remember that!" Brock cut Dixie off, laughing. "Gosh, that was over a year ago."  
  
Misty rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That's right. We were at The Quarry. Ash was being his normal moody self, and suddenly he pulled that lame idea out of thin air to get all the badges in the world." She took a long swig from her canteen, then offered it to Dixie, who accepted the water flask gladly. "Good thing you forgot all about that." Misty chuckled.  
  
Ash didn't flare up with a violent retort as he normally would. Instead, he seemed lost in deep thought. After a moment, he turned to Dixie. "Dixie, how many gyms are in the US?"  
  
The Southern Belle pulled the canteen from her lips, looking over at Ash. "Uh...let's see." She thought back to her registration packet, trying to call up a number. "Nintey-five, I think." She began to take another long drag of water.  
  
"Great! Let's get started, then. I only have a year until the next Indigo games, and I'll need a few battles under my belt. Guess those gyms'll have to do."  
  
Dixie gagged, sending a spray of water and saliva out her crimson lips. Coughing, she wiped her mouth, then turned on Ash with a vengeance. "Are you INSANE?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You want to," she began ticking off on her fingers, "One: Travel across the ENTIRE United States within a single year, and Two: Beat every single gym in the country while you do it?" He nodded, which only amazed her more. "You 'are' insane." She turned to Misty and Brock, talking to them as if Ash wasn't even there. "He's insane!"  
  
"We know." Brock said sadly. He already foresaw a long, long trip ahead of them.  
  
Misty nodded. "It's one of his quirks. You get used to it after a while...if it doesn't kill you first."  
  
Ash rolled his eyes, taking the ribbing with good humor. He had heard it all before, and knew that Brock and Misty would stay by his side, no matter what. "I don't care what anyone thinks," he stated matter-of-factly with arms folded defiantly across his chest, "I can do it, as long as I have Pikachu by my side." He looked down, reading his partner's reaction.  
  
Pikachu wasn't there.  
  
"Huh?" Ash began looking around wildly, trying to find Pikachu. "Pikachu? Hey, Pikachu, where are you?" The rest of the group soon followed suit, calling the Pokémon's name as they began to backtrack. After only a moment or two of walking, they found the yellow mouse caught in some underbrush beneath a lonely apple tree. Pikachu had somehow entangled himself while trying to scramble up the tree to get at its shining red fruit, and now struggled with embarrassment at its predicament.  
  
"There you are!" Misty bent down, giggling at the Pokémon's problem with good-natured fun. "Ash, he's over here!" Her call soon drew the group. Once they had arrived, the first thing they did was to stand back and chuckle at Pikachu.  
  
"Pika!"  
  
"Okay, okay, no need to get snippidy." Ash held up his hands, laughing. He began to examine the problem, then pulled a Pokéball off of his belt. With a quick press of the device's single control, he expanded the ball from marble size to softball size. Then, depressing the button until he felt the capture latch disengage, he tossed the ball out. "Bulbasaur, I choose you!"  
  
The Pokéball hung in the air for a split second, then opened on its unseen hinge, releasing a dazzling waterfall of pure white energy that charged the crisp, cool air. Within an instant, the energy hit the ground and began to coalesce into a creature, a Pocket Monster only about a foot high. It soon formed short, stubby legs with sharp claws, a pointed saurian head with small, beady eyes, and an enormous bulb protruding from its back, reminiscent of a large garlic clove. "Bulba!" Bulbasaur barked happily, overjoyed at being released from the Pokéball after such a long trip. The Pokéball, now devoid of its Pokémon, snapped back into Ash's waiting hand. He re-belted the ball, then turned to Bulbasaur.  
  
"Bulbasaur, y'think you could help Pikachu out a little?" Ash asked his walking seedling. The Grass Type gave him a nod and a grunt, then scowled with concentration as it took careful aim. With a short war cry, Bulbasaur let loose with a pair of razor-sharp leaves from the base of its bulb. The Razor Leaves sliced through part of the underbrush, then became embedded in the rest of the tangled twigs and roots, quivering in place.  
  
"Bul?" Bulbasaur tipped its head curiously. The Pokémon had been expecting its attack to split the brush right down the middle, letting Pikachu escape easily. "Bulba!"  
  
"Huh." Ash scratched his head. He reached down and latched onto Pikachu's tiny arms, then gave the electric mouse a sharp tug. Pikachu was jerked from its entrapment, but not without some parting scrapes and cuts from the underbrush as a consolation prize. Cradling Pikachu, he looked down at his Bulbasaur, who appeared distressed at having failed. "S'okay, Bulbasaur," he consoled the despondent Pokémon, "That brush looked pretty tough."   
  
The teens decided to continue their walk along the trail again. As they traveled, Ash pulled out a mild Potion Creme and began applying it to his petite partner's lacerations. Bulbasaur remained out of its ball at Ash's discretion; he figured a little stretch break for the Pokémon would do it some good. The entire time, though, Dixie simply stared at Bulbasaur, sizing it up with her own trainer's eye. Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.  
  
"Ash, what is the deal with you and this here Bulbasaur?" she asked him.  
He finished tending to Pikachu's wounds, placing the mouse on his shoulder.   
  
"What do you mean?" he replied with a question of his own. He glanced down at Bulbasaur, wondering if Dixie had spotted anything wrong with it. "Is he okay?"  
  
"Well...probably not." Dixie folded her arms, shaking her head. "Look, I'm not one of y'all's Fan-Boy types, but you've had that Bulbasaur for a while now, right?" He nodded, still not catching on. "Well, what's his story? I mean, I've only been training for a year, and my Chikorita evolved into a Bayleef in only a few months."  
  
"Hey!" Ash couldn't believe what he was hearing. This...this upstart was questioning not only his training techniques, but Bulbasaur too! "There's nothing wrong with Bulbasaur. He just doesn't want to evolve!" Brock and Misty secretly exchanged looks, vowing to stay out of the argument. They had been in discussions similar to this before, and had no desire to become part of one again. "Besides, Bulbasaur could beat your stupid Bayleef any day!"  
  
"Oh really?" It was Dixie's turn to shout. She ripped a Pokéball from her own belt and activated the release, tossing it to the side. In a second, the young trainer's Bayleef was released, reforming in midair and landing with a sharp grunt.  
  
"Leeef!" It was a fairly large specimen of Bayleef, its dorsal leaf easily reaching Dixie's slim waist. The ring of leaves encircling its neck hid the small attack vines and poison glands, as Ash knew all too well. He had fought a few Bayleef in his career, and didn't expect this one to be much different.  
  
"Well, Big Shot?" Dixie shot, sneering. "You ready to put your money where your mouth is?"  
  
Ash grinned, aching for a good battle. He caught Bulbasaur's eye, who nodded to him. "Bring it on, Rookie. I could use a nice diversion for a moment or two." Bulbasaur took several steps forward, snarling at the Bayleef. The other Pokémon simply snorted, taking its own battle stance. They began to circle each other, each sizing up the opponent. Bayleef looked completely confident as it gazed into the eyes of its smaller, seemingly lesser opponent.  
  
"You guys!" Misty stepped in, moving between the two Pokémon. It was a calculated risk; she knew for a fact that Bulbasaur wouldn't try anything with her in the way, but she had no such assurances with Dixie's Bayleef. "Take it easy, will you? We've got a lot of ground to cover, and I think we should be paying attention to where we're going, not fighting each other."  
  
"She's right about one thing." The audible click of a loaded gun cut off their dialogue. Turning slowly, the group of teens and their Pokémon saw a familiar pair standing behind them. Looking completely out of place in their expensive suits, Shades and Spike stood ankle-deep in leaves and twigs, each with a tech 9mm firearm gripped in the left and right hand, respectively. It had been Spike, the longhaired, blue-eyed blonde who had spoken. He now wore a vicious grin on his face as he put his gun to bear right between Dixie's eyes. "You should pay more attention."  
  
"Now, Ms. Mason," Shades began affably, wiping a thin bead of sweat from his dark-skinned forehead, "I believe we were attending to some 'unfinished business' before we were rudely interrupted." He waved his gun at Ash, motioning for the boy to step away from Dixie. Ash complied under protest, running options through his head rapidly. "Give us the TM Prototypes."  
  
"I don't have 'em."  
  
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose momentarily. "Ms. Mason, believe it or not, I have no real desire to see you lying in a pool of your own blood. My partner, on the other hand," he indicated Spike, who waved to them with his free hand psychotically, "Feels differently."  
  
"She's caused us a lot of trouble, Shades." Spike spoke of Dixie as if she weren't even there. "I say we plug her now. Those kids, too...'Specially the one with the Z's." he sneered, "That one's starting to bug me."  
  
"Look, are you both completely stupid?" she threw her hands up, losing control. "I *don't* have them. If I did, I wouldn't be walking in the middle of a forest, now would I?" a bit of panic leaked into her voice, usurping her stony, frustrated demeanor. "They aren't here!"  
  
Spike growled, "Shades, let's just kill them already! We can use the Itemfinder to locate the god-blasted TMs." His trigger finger itched desperately, and he saw several ample targets in front of him that could scratch it very well. "I'm gettin' sick of all this talkin'."  
  
"An excellent suggestion, Spike." Shades once again brought his gun to bear, choosing Dixie as his target. "I'm sorry we couldn't work things out, Ms. Mason."  
  
Ash's mind clicked into panic overdrive. "Oh yeah?" He squeaked, his voice quavering with fear, "Well, you forgot just one thing..." With an alarming tone, he pointed straight behind the pair, screaming, "Oh my GOD, what's THAT?" Shades and Spike whirled around, their guns ready to destroy whatever the frantic teen had seen. They were a bit surprised to find that there wasn't anything there.  
  
"What the...?" Spike muttered, turning around. "AH! They're getting away!"  
  
And indeed they were! Ash and his friends had seized the opportunity with a vengeance. Their Pokémon were not far behind, running for their very lives. Furious beyond all reason, Spike opened fire with his custom-built weapon, not particularly caring where he hit, and Dixie's unfortunate Bayleef just happened to be in his sights.  
  
"Leeeef!" Dixie's Grass type screeched as its wounded body pounded against the leafy forest floor, tumbling and rolling, soaking the leaves with a crimson hue. Ignoring the screaming voices in her head, the brave, bubbly blonde turned around and started to go back. Only Ash's hand, powered by a mixture of terror and adrenaline, managed to stop her before she could run full bore back for her Pokémon.  
  
"Bulbasaur, grab Bayleef with your Vinewhip and let's go go go!"  
  
Bulbasaur did as it was ordered, hauling the casualty into the air with its thick, powerful vines and taking off in a sort of half sprint, half froggy leap. Together, the group ran off through the woods with the dirty pair on their tail, firing blindly ahead of them in an attempt to hit one of the teens, or another of their Pokémon. Left, right, left again, right again...no one was sure exactly who was leading, or where they were going.   
* * *  
  
After ten minutes of the lethal marathon, they could no longer hear the duo behind them, yet still they ran. Each of them was exhausted, and wanted to stop, but they were terrified for their very lives. After what seemed like an eternity, they ran around a bend and came across salvation; a lone building standing in the middle of a small clearing.  
  
"Who in their right mind..." Ash had to pause for breath, trying desperately to get his heart back down under a thousand beats a second, "Who would build a cabin in the middle of nowhere?"   
  
He leaned against the object in question, which 'was' in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing particularly eye-catching about the construction; plain wooden siding, seemingly normal windows, a short, squatty chimney adorning the crown of its simple thatched roof, and a single, haphazard door stuck in the middle of what the teens could only assume was the front. With Bulbasaur's help, they leaned the injured Bayleef against the wall of the cabin, hoping that its inhabitants wouldn't mind.  
  
Dixie was about to respond when a strange, foreign beeping sound cut her off. They looked around vainly for the source, though there was hardly anything among them that would make a sound like this; Ash checked his Pokédex and Pokégear, but both were silent...blissfully silent in Dexter's case. Brock and Misty both exchanged helpless shrugs. Pikachu was the detective of the day, however, pointing to Dixie's bag and shouting to gain their attention. Taking her pack off, the southern belle dug through the bag until she finally found the culprit.  
  
"What in the world?" Dixie scratched her head, drawing the Itemfinder, out one of her grandfather's last inventions. Curious, she strapped the small device to her head and peered through the single lens that covered her left eye.   
  
"What is it?" Misty tried to read the information readout from her backward position in vain, succeeding only in staring straight into Dixie's eye. Dixie ignored her, however, mumbling as she scanned over the data the 'Finder was feeding her. "Yada yada, blah blah blah...Prototype One?" She was now more confused than ever. "What on earth is a Prototype One?"  
  
Before anyone could answer, a cry rang out behind the teens, giving them cause to freeze in their tracks. "Who in blazes are you?" a weathered voice demanded. The unmistakable click of a shotgun being pumped rang through the air, and the forest seemed to grow deadly quiet.  
  
"Oh, crap." Brock muttered.  
* * *  
  
"Crap!" Spike practically screamed at the forest around him, kicking up a large cloud of dirt and leaves as he vented his frustration and rage openly. He fired several shots into the air with his pistol, only succeeding in knocking down more leaves and branches in their path as they tried to track the intrepid teens through the trees. "I can't believe that! I just can't believe it; twice with the same trick." He switched his aim to a nearby tree, blowing several small holes into its trunk and spraying bark and sap across the forest floor. "From the SAME KID!"  
  
Shades started to reprimand his partner, but stopped. He felt a bit humiliated himself, and could understand and overlook Spike's outbursts...for now. His own frustration was beginning to cloud his judgement, and his anger grew more and more as the trail grew less and less distinct. "Relax, Spike." he attempted to reassure the raving gunman, all the while trying *very* hard to stay out of the tech 9's deadly path, "We'll find them. When we do, the prototypes will be in our possession, and the Board of Directors will reward us for our perseverance. Have patience."  
  
"I'd rather have those kids' heads on a platter." he growled, putting a fresh clip in his gun and holstering it. "I swear, after this mission, I'm never looking behind me again."  
  
Ironically (or perhaps the obvious plot device of a struggling writer), it was just then that a small dart hit Spike in the base of his neck. He managed to snarl the first half of a four-letter word before tumbling to the ground, completely devoid of consciousness. Shades whirled around with his gun at the ready, not quite sure what to expect. Whatever it was, he certainly didn't find it. "Who in blazes are you?"  
  
Standing behind the now solo Shades was a trio of humans and a single Meowth. Two of the three had assumed jaunty, arrogant poses, while the third had a blowgun he was lowering from his lips. The centerpiece had blinding silver hair that shimmered in the dim forest lighting, and wore dark black robes that hung loosely from his wiry body, and was armed with a nasty looking saber. The other pair, what appeared to be two women, looked like escapees from the circus; garish white costumes with a bold red 'R' emblazoned on their matching jackets, and ridiculously unnatural hair coloring that would make anyone with a sense of taste weep with pity.  
  
"Prepare for trouble..." the redheaded woman sneered, pulling out a Pokéball and gesturing wildly.  
  
"Make it double." the second woman with blue hair announced in a surprisingly deep voice.  
  
Before they could go any further, the silver-haired ninja hit Shades with another of his darts, and the corporate hit man's world faded to blackness.  
* * *   
  
Jesse froze, not quite believing what she was seeing. Red began to creep into her face as she felt her anger growing. "Now just why did you do that?" she demanded of Alpha, pocketing Arbok's ball in her jacket.  
  
"Yes, we were in the middle of our motto!" James was equally irate with the assassin. "You can not interrupt a member of Team Rocket when they are performing the-"  
  
"Silence." Alpha muttered, studying the forest floor. Wisely, the dastardly duo decided to zip their collective lips as the master Rocket studied the ground intently. After several moments, he drew his sword and pointed the end southwest. "This way," he ordered, starting off in a run, "They are not more than a few moments ahead of us."  
  
Meowth sighed with frustration, rubbing his temples with his gigantic paws. "Dis guy's three pancakes short ova shortstack...Da Boss musta been nuts to pair us up with him."  
  
"Less talk, more walk, Meowth." James grunted, starting off in unison run with Jessie after the shadow warrior. The large-headed cat took off after them, grumbling with every step.  
* * *  
  
"So you're Jack Mason's granddaughter."  
  
The teens' would-be attacker sat down at a small, unassuming kitchen table situated in the dining area of her small, rustic cabin, cradling a cup of steaming tea in her hands and smiling at Dixie. The slight, petite woman in her mid-fifties with graying brown hair gave Dixie an appraising eye, drawing her yellow shawl tighter over her narrow shoulders. "I thought I recognized you..." she said, taking a long, slow sip of her tea before continuing. "Little Dixieland Mason, my goodness, how you've grown."  
  
Dixie sat down across from her, casting a glance above her to make sure Ash and Misty were still with her. Her two friends had taken up position right behind her, staying silent but offering moral support nonetheless. "You know...knew my grampa?" Dixie finally gathered the courage to ask the woman.  
  
She nodded, setting the teacup down. "Mm-hmm. We go way back, Jack and I." She chuckled, popping herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. "How silly of me." Extending her hand, she started off with an introduction to Dixie, slightly flush with embarrassment. "I'm Gynn...Gynn Sue. I was one of your grandfather's research assistants." Dixie took her hand and shook it warily, still unsure of the woman who had been pointing a shotgun at them only ten minutes before. "When I heard about what happened to Jack..." her gaze dropped into her tea as her heart began to break all over again. "I'm so sorry, Dixie."  
  
Before Dixie could respond, Brock walked into the room, interrupting the discussion as he crossed through the door. Pikachu and Bulbasaur bounded in behind him, staring intently at the Pokéball he carried in his hand. "I patched Bayleef up as best I could," he explained to Dixie, tossing her the containment sphere, "But we don't have a lot to work with. A Nurse Joy wouldn't be bad right about now..." his eyes grew glazed over, "Though I can't think of a bad time for a Nurse Joy."  
  
"Nurse *Who*?"  
  
"Long story." Ash muttered, waving her off. He turned back to Gynn. "What are you doing all the way out here in these woods, anyway? I mean, running into an old friend of the Professor's must be a hundred-to-one odds." He caught Pikachu, who came bounding up into his arms with a gleeful 'Pika!'  
  
Gynn smiled, standing up and walking over to a safe sitting in the corner of the dining room. "Actually, the odds aren't as bad as you would think. As a matter of fact, I've been waiting for you to arrive."  
  
"Us?" Misty couldn't believe it. "We just got here a few weeks ago, how could you possibly know about us coming?"  
  
"Not you," she chided Misty for her foolish outburst as she bent down to fiddle with the safe's tumblers, "Dixie. Dixie, will you lend me your Itemfinder for a moment?"  
  
Dixie nodded, retrieving the device from her bag and handing it to Gynn obediently. Gynn stopped her activities with the safe long enough to readjust some of the Itemfinder's controls, peering through the eyepiece without actually strapping the headset on. As soon as she pressed the activation button, the device started beeping again. "There we go...the range on this darn thing was only a few meters. I managed to reset the range function for its primary search parameters." She handed the device back to Dixie, then finished the safe's combination, hauling the heavy door ajar and digging through the scores of papers and small boxes strewn about the interior. "You shouldn't have any problem finding the rest of them now."  
  
"Huh?" Dixie shoved the Itemfinder back into her pack, now more confused than before. "What do you mean? Find the rest of what?"  
  
"These." Gynn found what she had been looking for, and pulled her head out of the safe to offer it to Dixie. It wasn't large, only about half the size of a computer disk at three times the thickness. It was almost like a computer chip, gleaming in the window-filtered sunlight with its mix of metallic contact points and plastic translucent casing. The top front portion of the chip was embossed with the golden numerals zero and one. Dixie took the chip, holding it breathlessly as she stared at it in awe.  
  
"I-I-is this what I think it is?" When Gynn nodded, Dixie leapt into the air with joy. "OH MY GOD! Wa-HOO!!!!" She grabbed Ash's hands and began to swing the klutzy boy around in a bizarre victory dance. "We found it, we really found it!"  
  
"F-f-fou-nd wh-wh-what-t-t?" Ash managed to force out of his mouth as Dixie forced him into her waltz.  
  
"This is the first of your grandfather's prototypes." Gynn explained, though it was hardly necessary in Dixie's case. "Hidden Machine Oh-One teaches the Cut ability to a Pokémon...provided it's compatible." With that, she returned to her tea, a small smile slowly blossoming on her lips at the sight of the girl's pure ecstasy.  
  
Dixie couldn't contain herself. She slung Ash away and immediately began digging through her bag again, letting the hapless dancer crash into the wall and slide down in a dazed heap. After a moment of fruitless search, she pulled out the HM Accelerator with a triumphant cry and plugged the HM chip into the accelerator's port and began reading the small display screen. "Hmm..." she muttered thoughtfully as the information scrolled past her scanning eyes. Misty, Brock, and Pikachu, in the meantime, had collected Ash from the floor and returned him to a state of semi-standing. Together, they walked over and tried to read along with Dixie, only catching small snatches of what the machine was offering. "Ah-hah!" Dixie finally cried, "I've got it. According to this, the best match I have for this one is...Bayleef." she trailed off.  
  
The room grew deadly silent as they pondered the problem. Gynn, for her part, remained out of the discussion. She could almost feel the weight lifting off of her shoulders now that the prototype had been passed on to Jack's granddaughter. 'I kept it safe, just like you asked,' she thought, wondering if he could hear her. 'The rest is up to her.'  
  
"Hey, lighten up!" Ash slapped the morose girl on the back, laughing heartily. "I mean, it's not like Bayleef's dead, right? We don't have to do anything with the prototype now." He scratched his head, grabbing hold of the accelerator and pondering it. "Besides, I'd feel a lot better if Professor Oak looked at it before we started frying our Pokémon's' brains with it."  
  
Ash's pep talk was cut short by the sound of shattering glass; Gynn Sue's windows exploded inward with a hail of razor-sharp shards as several edged throwing stars flew into the cabin. They lodged themselves into the wall on the other side of the room, quivering harshly against the hard wooden wall. Before even a peep could be uttered, a voice called out from beyond the shattered windows.  
  
"Ash Ketchum, come and meet the face of your killer!"  
* * *  
  
"This is something new..." Ash muttered. He stood outside the cabin's door with Pikachu and Bulbasaur taking point ahead of him, growling at the strange man standing in front of them. He had flowing, jagged silvery hair and a dark, midnight black cloak that covered him from head to foot. Jessie and James stood on either side of the cloaked stranger with Meowth at their feet, all three chortling and waving at Ash as if he were already beaten. "I'm going to forgo the standard question-and-answer routine and just assume you're working for Team Rocket." he quipped, jabbing a finger at the three most annoying aspects of his life.  
  
The stranger smirked, removing his heavy gloves and cracking his knuckles loudly. "You use humor and false confidence to hide your fear. Excellent: This will prove to be more satisfying than I had first believed." He removed the cloak completely, revealing a black bodysuit trimmed in crimson red, labeled only with a small, stylized 'R' logo on the left breast. Strapped to his back was a long black sheath with the handle protruding just above his right shoulder. "You may call me Alpha. I am of the Omega Red, and I have been ordered to eliminate you."  
  
"Hightail it outta here before I spread your Omega BUTT all over this lousy forest, buster!" Misty called out from her hiding spot, halfway protruding from the doorway. Supporting Ash was all fine and dandy, but caution was a must when there was some kind of crazy ninja assassin with throwing stars involved. "Just TRY me!"  
  
"Thanks, Misty..." Ash muttered. He looked down at his two Pokémon at his feet, mind racing at a mile a minute. 'I could call out another Pokémon,' he thought, 'But from the looks of it, this Alpha guy is pretty fast...he'd probably cut me down before I could even trigger a release.' "Bulbasaur, I choose you. Let's mop the floor with these Rocket Pansies!"  
  
"I am NOT A PANSY!" James protested loudly in a tone three octaves higher than usual. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" The battle warm-ups stopped only long enough for the rest of the spectators, as well as the combatants, to give James a long, hard look. "Sorry...don't know what came over me." James coughed. When the staring continued, he grew angry again. "Weren't you two supposed to be fighting???"  
  
Jessie cradled her face in her hands, moaning. "James, James, you foolish, stupid man." she muttered.  
  
"That was pretty disturbing." Ash mumbled. "Where was I? Oh, right. Bulbasaur, GO!" Bulbasaur was about to rush forward, but was stopped short in his tracks as Alpha drew his long, nasty saber and made several swipes in the air. The singing of the blade froze the seedling with fear. Pikachu stepped in between Alpha and Bulbasaur in a futile attempt to shield his friend at Alpha's advance. Ash began sweating bullets, trying to figure out what to do now. The sword could easily cut Pikachu apart, then move on through Bulbasaur until it ended up hilt-deep in his own chest. "Cripes..."  
  
"Ash!"  
  
At the mention of his name, Ash whirled around to see Dixie, who was leaning out the broken window and holding the HM Accelerator high above her head. "Catch it and use it!" She threw the device straight and true, giving Ash only a split second to catch the metallic/plastic shell before it crashed into his skull. He stared down in disbelief at what Dixie was offering him.  
  
"Are you insane? It's untested!"  
  
"Do you have a better idea?"  
  
He didn't, and so split the device into its two halved components. "Bulbasaur, hold still a second." He bent down, placing the halves over Bulbasaur's temples and, saying a quick prayer, tapped the activation panel. Responding instantly, the accelerator sent twin beams of streaming emerald light into Bulbasaur's head. The seedling squealed, its small reptile eyes flashing green for a brief moment before returning to normal. Its mission done and information transferred, the accelerator fell silent once more. With a grunt, Bulbasaur extended its twin vines, which had somehow changed; each tip, instead of being a tiny bulb, now sported a razor-sharp edge.  
  
"Bulba?" Bulbasaur examined its new add-ons, swinging them in front of its face with curiosity. "Bul...bulba, bulbasaur!"  
  
Alpha shook himself out of his astounded stupor, once again brandishing his sword. "A very clever trick, my foe, but you will require more than cheap tricks to defeat me." With a shrill battle cry, he swung the katana up over his head and ran forward. In one swift move, he leapt forward and brought the saber down, cleaving Ash Ketchum straight down the middle. That was the plan, anyway. Unfortunately for Alpha, Bulbasaur's new blades blocked the shot, forcing the assassin's saber back into his own face. Undaunted, Alpha struggled against the Pokémon, concentrating all of his weight and strength into his blade. Steel sang out against organics as the three blades struggled for supremacy. In the end, though, it was Alpha who won; with a cheap shot, he kicked the Bulbasaur aside, sending it tumbling towards Jessie, James, and Meowth. Then, in another instant, he was behind Ash, holding the sword to the teen's throat before he could even yelp in surprise.  
  
"Ash!" Misty screamed in horror. Surprising enough, Dixie did exactly the same, with just as much passion and fear as Misty had.  
  
"Now," he growled into the ear of his target, "Beg me for your life." He could feel the boy swallow against his blade, but there were no whimpers to speak of escaping from his lips.  
  
"Pika! Pikapi, pi-cha-kachoo!" Pikachu ran over to its fallen comrade, trying to shake Bulbasaur out of its punch-drunk stupor. Before he could even reach the seed Pokémon, though, he was scooped up and jammed into a small glass bottle, courtesy of none other than Meowth. "CHAAAA!"  
  
"Hahahahahahaaaa!" Meowth cackled gleefully, holding the thundering Pikachu over his head triumphantly. "Dis is perfect! Not only is the twerp gonna be outta our way, but we finally got dat Pikachu!"  
  
"Nice grab, Meowth." James commended him. "That was positively-AUGH!" he screamed as a Razor Leaf struck his cheek, cutting a small line all the way from his lip to his ear. Looking down, he saw Ash's Bulbasaur as the culprit. It stood at his feet, snarling and barking at him. "You miserable little mongrel, are you still here?" With a swift kick, he sent the Bulbasaur flying into the air, tumbling like a hopeless lost Pidgey with a bum wing.  
  
"Bulbasaur!" Ash cried out, struggling to get free. The blade held fast, though, and he was trapped within the deadly embrace of the villain.  
  
Team Rocket laughed as Bulbasaur hit the ground, rolling in the dirt and leaves until finally coming to rest a few yards from where James had kicked it. "I guess they don't make Bulbasaur like they used to." Jessie sneered, laughing at her own joke. James and Meowth joined in, busting a gut as Bulbasaur weakly pulled itself back onto its haunches.  
  
"Bul..."  
  
"Huh?" Their laughter quickly ceased as Bulbasaur began to quiver, its eyes closed tight with concentration. A strange light began to emit from its bulb, pulsing and throbbing like a heartbeat, continuing to grow in intensity and rhythm.  
  
"Bah!" The glow spread to the rest of Bulbasaur's body, and its eyes snapped open, instantly focusing not on Team Rocket, but instead on Alpha, who still had Ash under his blade. Bulbasaur rose to all four of its feet, growling as the pulsating glow grew greater and greater.  
  
"SAUR!"  
  
"Oh no..." James squeaked.  
  
Bulbasaur began to grow; its legs grew longer, accommodating its rapidly expanding body. New, sharper fangs grew, protruding from its lip like the fangs of a vampire. The bulb on its back blossomed, blooming into several palmlike leaves with an enormous flower bud situated in the center. Bulbasaur, now an Ivysaur, leered at Alpha, beckoning him with all four of its now longer and even sharper vines.  
  
"What?" Alpha couldn't believe it; one little kick from James, and suddenly it evolved! What were the odds of that happening? Off-balance from the sight of the evolving Pokémon, the rocket agent was caught unawares by Ash's elbow, which the teen drove squarely in Alpha's stomach. Shoving the sword aside, Ash ran out of Alpha's grasp and turned on the agent, standing with Ivysaur at his side.  
  
"Bul...I mean, Ivysaur?" Ash looked down questioningly at his longtime friend, who gave him an encouraging nod and a quick 'Ivy'. "Okay, let's give this another shot. Ivysaur: CUT!" Ivysaur responded instantly, its four vines leaping from the bloom on its back and streaking towards Alpha's chest, their points gleaming in the forest-filtered sunlight. Only Alpha's lightning fast reflexes saved him as he parried the vines, grunting with effort and falling to one knee.  
  
"If it is to be a Pokémon match, then so be it!" he snarled, using his free hand to draw a black Pokéball and activate the release. With a flash and a river of white energy, Alpha's solitary pocket monster was released; a gleaming crimson warrior with a shell of iron and crushing claws on the end of each powerful arm.  
  
"Sieeee!" The blood red Scizor snarled, snapping its claws at Ash and Ivysaur menacingly as Alpha smirked. "Sissor, sor Sissor siiiiii!"  
  
"Scizor, bring me the boy's head." Alpha ordered, putting his sword back in its sheath. "I want the Pokémon alive, however." Giving the Ivysaur an appraising eye, he could see quite a bit of potential in the fearsome beast, especially with its newest 'add-ons'. "He could be useful."  
  
"Useful?" Jessie gave James and Meowth confused looks. "It's just an Ivysaur...Pikachu's the real prize, isn't he?" All she received were shrugs before they turned back to the action. "Hmmf. We'll just see."  
  
Ash was sweating bullets now. As powerful as Ivysaur had become with its HM/evolution combo, it was no match against a Steel type. Steels were only weak against a handful of types, neither Grass nor Poison didn't happen to be one of them. Alpha's Scizor began to beat its insectlike wings, and it lifted off the ground to hover several inches over the forest floor. Giving one last war cry, Scizor launched itself towards Ash and Ivysaur at lightning speed. Ash flinched, expecting the claws to snap his head right off of his shoulders.  
  
Fortunately for Ash, salvation came in the form of a certain spiky-haired Rock Master and his fire fox. "Vulpix, Fireball!" Right in front of Ash's eyes, Scizor was struck down by a raging ball of fire, caught flatfooted in mid-charge, drilled straight in the chest by the attack and driven to the ground. Ash cast a glance back towards the broken window, seeing Brock giving him a thumbs up as his Vulpix stood on the windowsill, preparing for another shot. "Steels are weak to fire, remember?" his beefy friend called out to him with a grin.  
  
"Thanks for the assist! I knew that bug-brain wasn't anything to worry about." Ash gave him his own thumbs-up, then turned back to face Alpha...only to find that Scizor had recovered a lot more quickly than he would have anticipated. It hovered eye to eye with him, clicking its claws in anticipation. "Oh. Hi." Ash gave Scizor a small, pathetic smile, and prepared for oblivion for the second time in thirty seconds.  
  
"Typhlosion, Flame Wheel!"  
  
This time it was a ring of fire that struck Scizor, engulfing it in flames from the sidelines and sending it flying off to the side. By the time the Pokémon landed, it was obvious that there wouldn't be an instant recovery; Scizor's hard metal exoskeleton was glowing white-hot, smoldering the leaves and twigs beneath and around the fainted Pokémon as it moaned, flat out on the ground. Both Ash and Ivysaur looked over their shoulders.  
  
Dixie patted her Typhlosion on the head, flashing Ash a smile. "Surprised?"  
  
"A little..."  
  
"Well," she pointed behind him, "You're gonna be surprised again, 'cause that sword guy's comin' atcha again."  
  
"What?" Ash swung around just in time to see and dodge Alpha's singing blade. As it was, it managed to scrape the top of his hat. Furious, Ash shoved Alpha aside in a modified tackle and began sprinting towards the trees. "This is getting old..." he muttered, calling for Pikachu and Ivysaur. "Let's finish this!"  
  
"Just what I had in mind." Alpha snarled, chasing after Ash and his fleeing Pokémon. Jessie, James, and Meowth ran after him, leaving Ash's dumbfounded friends to climb out of the house and survey the damage done.  
  
"We have to go after them!" Dixie pulled another Pokéball out of her pack, expanding it. Brock, however, placed a hand on the capture sphere and shook his head. "But-" she started.  
  
"Nu-uh." he shook his head firmly. "We'd just get in the way."  
  
"You mean, Ash has some kind of plan?"  
  
Misty rolled her eyes, sighing. "Knowing him, he's come up with some harebrained, crackpot scheme that'll either work, or it'll get him killed." Her tone sounded off-handed, but her mind spoke otherwise. 'For Goddess's sake, Ash...don't die. Please.'  
* * *  
  
"Oh man, I'm gonna die."  
  
Ash muttered the sentence over and over again as throwing stars lodged themselves into the trees around him as he ran, narrowly missing him by mere inches. Alpha's shots seemed to be getting closer every time. At this rate, he was going to be sushi in another minute. 'It's now or never...' Digging his heels into the ground, Ash screeched to a halt and spun one-eighty, scanning the forest for the stealthy ninja. Pikachu and Ivysaur hadn't been prepared for the sudden stop, and plowed into his legs, knocking him on his butt.  
  
A harsh, barking laugh from above caught his attention, shifting his gaze upward. Alpha stood atop a high branch, his sword thrown over his shoulder as if it were a silvery rifle. "This is the boy that is worthy of Omega Red?" The assassin leapt from his perch, tumbling through the air to land perfectly a mere ten feet away from Ash. "Pathetic," he spat, brandishing his sword. "Still, I will not fail."  
  
"Don't count on it." Ash leapt to his feet, Pikachu and Ivysaur at his side. "All right, Ivysaur. You know what to do. CUT!" Ivysaur snarled, launching two of its vines in a long, wide sweep that carried far past Alpha. The assassin easily leapt over the vines, coming back down to the ground as if nothing had even happened.  
  
"Was that your best shot?" Alpha laughed his horrible, guttural laugh once more. "You missed."  
  
Ash grinned. "Nope. 'Fraid not."  
  
A loud creaking sound from behind warned Alpha of danger. He turned just in time to realize Ivysaur's true target; the tree behind him. It now began its descent, crashing down upon him faster than he could react. "Son of a-" was all he could say before the mass of branches and leaves engulfed him, plunging his vision into darkness.  
  
Ash waited a moment, wondering if the ninja would pull another of his tricks. Then he leapt up into the air, whooping with their victory. "YEAH!" He picked up his Ivysaur, which was substantially heavier than Bulbasaur had been, but swung him around nevertheless. "We did it, Ivysaur! We did it!"  
  
Alpha's three stooges arrived just in time to see Ash's celebration. One look at the protruding sword from the fallen tree told them enough. "Alpha lost?" James simply couldn't believe it. He stepped over, picking up the fallen assassin's saber and holding it in awe. "He can't lose. He's Omega Red, he can't lose!"  
  
"Huh?" Ash stopped, placing Ivysaur back on the ground. "Oh, it's just you three."  
  
Jessie gritted her teeth, clenching a gloved fist. "You, boy, are beginning to get on my nerves..." she growled.  
  
Ash couldn't help but laugh. "Six years, and all I've managed to do is get on your nerves? Guess I'd better try harder."  
  
"THAT'S IT!" she cried, stripping her arms clean of the latex gloves and tossing them aside. "The gloves are OFF, little man." She began marching forward, intent on giving Ash the beating of his life. No Pokémon battles, no gigantic robots, no holes in the ground...this time, she just wanted to beat the stuffing out of him.  
  
Ash looked down at his thunderous counterpart. "Pikachu; show these three the door." Pikachu nodded, gathering a good dose of electricity. With a warcry, the lightning mouse let loose with a devastating Thunderbolt, blasting Jessie back into James's arms. Before Jessie could even recover, Pikachu followed up with another blast. With a thunderclap and an explosion of dirt and leaves, the trio was blasted high into the stratosphere.  
  
"Looks like Team Rocket's blasting off again!!!"  
* * *  
  
Giovanni sat in his office-his 'real' office-and waited patiently for the conversation next to him to cease. Off to his left sat a plain-looking man dressed in a simple midnight black jumpsuit. He wore a flattened black cap atop his head and a Glock sidearm strapped to his hip, and little else. At the moment, he was speaking into Giovanni's vidphone, and his tone was less than pleasant.  
  
"You let him escape, Alpha."  
  
Alpha, the lethal bladesmith, hung his head in shame on the other end of the connection. His arm was wrapped in a makeshift splint, and much of his face and body was bandaged. The eye that wasn't wrapped up featured a beaut of a shiner, puffing out in all the colors of the rainbow. "I am sorry, Omega. I underestimated the boy and his Pokémon. It will not happen again."  
  
"It will not." Was all Omega said. "What of the three agents assisting you?"  
  
"I sent them ahead."  
  
"Good. I will send Delta ahead to rendezvous with them. You will return here. Punishment for your failure will be swift." With that, he cut the signal. He couldn't help but sigh with frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Alpha would someday become one of the most feared assassins in the world...if only he could control his ego.  
  
Giovanni chuckled. "Try not to be so hard on him, Omega." he told the handpicked leader and namesake of Omega Red. "He is only a child, after all. He will learn, if given the opportunity."  
  
"He underestimated the target." Omega sneered, disgusted by the very thought. "He was beaten by a sixteen-year-old boy and an Ivysaur."  
  
Despite his own hatred for the Ketchum boy, Giovanni couldn't help but smile. "We've all been guilty of underestimating the boy. His skill is impressive for one of his age, and his luck is uncanny." Giovanni leaned back in his office chair, electing a loud creaking sound from the aging piece of furniture. "We won't make that mistake twice, will we?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"Good." Giovanni smiled. The next time Ketchum crossed paths with a member of Omega Red, he wouldn't live to tell of it. Victory was guaranteed.  
* * *  
  
"Gear, how far is it to the next town?"  
  
Ash's innocent-looking watch projected a holographic map into the air above his wrist, displaying the surrounding area. Gynn had recommended that they head due south to reach the nearest semblance of civilization, and Gear seemed to confirm those directions. "At present rate, ETA will be in approximately three hours," Gear informed him, "Provided there are no further battle activities to hinder progress." Pikachu looked at the map curiously from Ash's shoulder, poking its finger through the floating picture.  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that, Gear." Misty laughed, hefting her pack into a more comfortable position. "We sent Team Rocket packing."  
  
"I do not worry." Gear informed her.  
  
Ash quieted the Pokégear with a flick of its power switch, turning to Misty with his hands on his hips. "Excuse me? 'Who' sent Team Rocket packing?"  
  
"Not bad work, Ash." Brock praised him as they continued to walk through the forest. "Taking down a ninja assassin...I'm impressed."  
  
Ash pulled a Pokéball off of his belt, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, well, I couldn't have done it without Ivysaur...or the new HM!" He 'V'ed his fingers for victory. "One down, four more to go." He looked over at Dixie. "Right?" Dixie had been unnaturally quiet, keeping her eyes down on the forest floor.  
  
"Are you really going to get all the badges in the Star League?" she asked him. "AND help me find all the HMs?"  
  
"You better believe it." Ash laughed.  
  
She smiled. "Well then, you'll have to beat me to the badges and the HMs first!" With that, she took off running. Ash cried in protest, starting off in a dead sprint to try and catch up, and nearly knocking Pikachu off as he did. Brock merely sighed, shaking his head.  
  
"Think we can keep up with 'two' Ashes?" He asked Misty.  
  
She moaned. "I was having problems dealing with the one we had already." she grumbled. She didn't know if she could deal with another person with Ash's spirit and enthusiasm. "C'mon, we'd better hurry if we're going to catch them."  
  
"Maybe we should leave 'em alone." Brock grinned, starting off in a run. "They make a cute couple."  
  
Misty scowled, following Brock. Wasn't that what he had always said about her and Ash?  
End  
  
Quiet Hindsight  
One down, and four to go. I realize that the HM saga will take up most of Season 2 of Badgequest, but unless I miss my guess, it'll all be worth it in the end. So stick around, because there's a lot more coming up. I guarantee it.  
  
Next: BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
02- Fly 


	2. Fly

=Author's Note=  
Now things are really starting to pick up for Ash and his motly crew. A new assassin's on his way, and an old enemy has decided to pay him a visit and ask a favor. But who, and what favor? What am I, the Answer Man? Read the fic!  
  
=Legal Disclaimer=  
I do not own Pokémon:  
I do not, true not, on a plane.  
I have not, own not on a train.  
I share not, care not with Vulpix.  
I haven't enough funds to buy a Twix.  
Get off my case and leave me be.  
Send your lawyers home, this fic be free.  
  
BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga   
02- Fly  
  
  
The hills of America's Appalachian Mountains sprawled out like a rolling sea, a true example of the beauty that the industrialized nation still had to offer. Oceans of evergreens and pines swarmed the plains like immobile green soldiers of nature standing at the ready. A breathless sunset glowed golden and pink, cascading from peak to peak across the horizon as the day cried farewell to the sleepy mountain range.   
  
This was the stuff of the settings of great American novels. It was untainted by men or machines, with only Pokémon to bound within its lonesome trees and call it home. Romance, adventure, intrigue and mystery...it was all around, hidden under the guise of beauty and a thick pine scent. It was nature in its purest form, totally untouched.  
  
-Or rather, nearly untouched...  
  
The one spoiler for the rolling forest was a fairly large one, as well as potentially disastrous; looming overhead was the remains of an immense airship, caught in its own furious inferno, screaming its death throes as it plummeted towards the ground. The construction of the ship was not quite like anything the world had ever seen, with its twin aluminum helium tanks strapped to a long, flat passenger section tapering down to a rounded snub nose. The whole thing was painted dark midnight black with crimson trim, standing out on the bright sunset sky like a fiery black beacon of death.  
  
Ash Ketchum stood at one of the skyship's airlocks, holding on to his hat as he desperately thought of a way out of this mess. The trainer's eyes stung and watered with the harsh wind, thin air, and thick, blanketing smoke that assaulted his senses. All in all, it wasn't turning out to be one of his most favorite days. Behind him, his gaggle of friends kept watch behind them, very nearly succumbing to panic as Ash felt creeping into his own soul. Pikachu stared up at him from the metal grating that served as a deck, its eyes glimmering in the light of the flickering fires. Ash's mind raced furiously, taking stock of what had just happened.  
  
"Pika?" Pikachu tugged on his pant leg questioningly, looking over its tiny shoulder behind them. It knew what was after them, and was even less eager than Ash to face it. "Chaaa..."  
  
"ASH!" Misty had to practically yell in his ear to be heard above the skyship's final anguished screams. She abandoned all pretenses with him and grabbed his shoulder, meeting his eyes with her own. Fear met fear as the Mistress of Water locked her aqua-blue gaze with his golden amber eyes. "Ash, we have to get down! He's going to kill us!" Dixie, the stunning southern blonde who was the newest addition to the team, nodded her agreement, standing next to Misty and quaking with fear.  
  
"If he doesn't," Brock added in, "This over-gunned blimp will!" Before he could add anything else, a bullet ricocheted off of the wall right next to his head. "Crap!" He ducked, looking out in the corridor beyond the airlock, trying to find the source of the bullet. Even as he looked, though, Brock knew full well who had shot at them.  
  
Delta lowered his gun, swearing and putting in a fresh clip. He was a man of average height, with close-cropped blonde hair and aqua blue eyes, wearing a black jumpsuit with a crimson 'R' emblazoned right over his heart. From head to foot, the man was covered with guns and ammo clips of every variety. Even though he had only entered their lives a matter of hours before, the teens and their Pokémon had quickly grown to fear him and despise him. As Delta tossed the used clip aside, his fingers failed him and dropped the new clip to the metal deck beneath his feet. He cursed again and bent down to pick it up.  
  
Jessie, James, and Meowth stood behind the assassin, holding their own favorite armaments. If Ash had any previous doubts that the terrible three would haunt him for the rest of his life, they had now been washed away by the afterburner-driven freeze rockets that they were aiming at them now.  
  
"Fire da Freeze Blasts!" Meowth screeched, throwing a clawed finger in their direction. Together, all three discharged their shoulder-mounted launchers, jerking with the recoil. It would have been a beautiful shot had they opted to hold the guns with the muzzle pointing in the correct direction. Instead, their shots flew down the corridor behind them and smashed into what remained of the engine room, sending an icy blast through the back half of the ship that froze everything in its place. The frozen shells helped to calm the fire for only a moment before it roared back to life, stronger than ever.  
  
"Nuts..." James said as he stared down the barrel of his bazooka, looking for more ammo. "That was my last one." A deadly 'click' sent his blood running icy cold as he felt his finger accidentally press down on the trigger of the gun his face was half-buried in. He managed to jerk his head out of the way before another shot that would have taken his head off ripped out of the muzzle of his launcher, smashing into the roof above them. The steel ceiling became as brittle as dried clay under the sting of the harsh, icy chemicals and smashed apart under the strain, collapsing onto the Rocket trio. "Nope..." James' muffled voice emerged from the debris, "I had one left."  
  
'All right, Ketchum,' Ash gave himself a pep-talk, 'Now's the time when you think of something brilliant.' He looked out at the open hatch, then at his friends, then at Delta and the buried Rockets, and finally out the hatch again. In a flash, he knew what he had to do, though he didn't like it any more than he knew the others would. "Okay!" Ash shouted to his friends as Delta reloaded, "I have a plan."  
  
"What's-huh?" Misty was about to ask him when he grabbed her and shoved her out the airlock. "AAAAAAAAAAA!" He cringed, hearing her scream fade quickly as she fell towards the earth.  
  
"Man, I'm gonna be paying for this one later..." he muttered.  
Brock's eyes nearly went wide as he wondered, if only for a second, if Ash had gone insane, or just had enough of Misty's teasing and nagging. Ash's gaze locked with his, though, and he realized the young boy's plans. He grabbed Dixie and leapt out of the ship before the southern belle could even cry out. She did plenty of that on the way down, however, as loudly as her lungs would allow.  
  
As Ash scooped up Pikachu off of the metal deck he took one last look back at Delta. The lone gunman was taking aim at Ash's head with his custom-made weapon of choice. "Now you die, Ketchum." He snarled in a rough, grating voice. His finger twitched ever so slightly on the trigger before he could force it back under control. He wanted to savor this moment.  
  
"Maybe later." Ash took a step backwards, dropping out of the airlock and out of Delta's sights. The assassin cursed loudly, holstering his pistol with a violent shove as he sprinted for the escape pod. The boy had escaped this time, but he wouldn't get away their next encounter. He promised himself, even as his beloved airship was crumbling around him, that Ash Ketchum would die by his hand and his hand alone. Still, he had to admit silently that the boy was good. He even had guts to match. Guts and skill would not save him, though. Not by a long shot.  
* * *  
  
With a little fancy streamlining and a lot of luck, Ash managed to catch up to his friends as they plummeted towards the mix of emerald evergreens and dusty red mountains with Pikachu clinging desperately to his black Silph jacket. As soon as they had reached each other, they all went spread-eagle to slow their fall, buying a little extra time.  
  
"I'm going to assume that you didn't just shove us all out of that oversized blimp just for kicks!" Misty had to shout just to hear her own voice over the roar of the rushing air around them. "Tell me you had another part to this plan!" Her biting sarcasm did a poor job of hiding the panic that now poured into her voice and danced in her watering eyes.  
  
Cupping his hands to his mouth, he answered, "When we got on the airship, I figured we might have to do something like this, so I used Gear's RTS to get a few Poké-chutes for us!" Ash silently gave thanks to Professor Oak and his Remote Transport System. The prototype satellite linkup that allowed him to access his transport-ready Pokémon anywhere on the planet may have just saved their lives. The luck of having his flying team on hand back at the Oak Institute was nothing short of astonishing, either.  
  
"Stop jawin' and start throwin'!" Dixie screamed. The ground loomed below them, and it was only getting larger by the second.  
  
"Right!" Pulling one of his Pokéballs off of his belt, he clicked the release and tossed it out to the side. "Articuno!" On command, the legendary Ice Bird was produced from the channel of brilliant energy with a frosty shriek. "Articuno, grab Dixie and take her down to the ground...gently!" The gigantic ice bird nodded, grasping the blonde in its talons and spreading its majestic wingspan. The titan seemed to fly upwards as its speed dropped enormously, leaving Ash, Misty, Brock, and Pikachu to fall at their ever-increasing velocity.  
  
"You're next, Brock!" Ash produced a second ball and activated it. This time, though, it was a switch in the opposite direction of Articuno; "Charizard!" Ash commanded as the fiery dragon re-materialized, "Grab Brock and follow Articuno!"  
  
"What?" Brock cried out in fear as Charizard snarled, grabbing the rocky trainer in its powerful arms and unfurling its leathery wings. "Aaaaaasssssshhhhh! I'll get you for this!" his cry rang out as he was 'lifted' skyward, closely tailing Dixie and Articuno.  
  
The ground kept coming closer and closer, and Misty (being the sharp cookie she is) noticed that right away. "Uh, how about speeding things up?" she shouted. In response, Ash tossed a Pokéball practically on top of her. With a flash and a pop, a large Fearow exploded from the ball and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders with its razor-sharp talons. "Hey!" she shrieked as the bird slowed their descent. Lucky for Misty, it wasn't the Fearow that Ash and Pidgeot had battled against all those years ago. This one Ash had captured on one of his many trips around the Island, and was a bit more even-tempered.  
  
Ash grinned at Pikachu. "Looks like that just leaves you and me on Pidgeot, Pika-pal!" Pikachu gave him a claws-up and clamped down on his shoulder with its daggerlike nails. With the individual trees of the forest now clearly in sight, the yellow Pokémon was more than ready to land...safely! Taking a deep breath, Ash took Pidgeot's ball off his belt and clicked the release mechanism, holding onto the ball and letting it eject right below him. "Pidgeot, take us down!"  
  
Pidgeot re-formed from the energy, cutting its wings into the torrents of wind rushing up at it. The gigantic battle bird hadn't been expecting this sudden release. Nor had it expected Ash and Pikachu to land heavily on its back, as they did an instant after it was released. "Jyooooo!" It screeched, wobbling unsteadily with the extra weight. "Jyo, jyot-ot!" Pidgeot began spinning and looping, heading down at an alarming rate towards the forest of pine.  
  
"Pidgeot!" Ash grabbed twin fistfuls of feathers, trying to keep his airborne steed underneath him. "Calm down, or we're gonna crash!"  
  
And that's just what they did, flying straight into the midst of the trees at top speed. Pidgeot, for its part, was able to dodge most of the branches, breaking through the small ones and nimbly avoiding the thick trunks and boughs. Spinning and juking with uncanny dexterity, Pidgeot managed to make it through the sea of trees and at last come out into a small clearing. The Flying type spread its wings wide in a braking maneuver, coming to a gentle rest in the middle of the clearing. Trilling happily, it waited for Ash to praise it with a pat on the head, or a "Great job, Pidgeot!"  
  
There wasn't a sound.  
  
"Jyo?" Pidgeot craned its neck, trying to see what the problem was. It was a little more than surprised to find that Ash wasn't even on its back. "Jyo!" A moment later, its sensitive ears picked up a pair of moaning voices from inside the forest, somewhere high off of the ground. "Jyoooohhhhh..." Pidgeot tooted sadly. There would be heck to pay for this one..."  
* * *  
  
"Ohhhhh..." Ash moaned in agony, lying a few feet from the freshly built fire and clutching his ribs. "Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow...ow." he grumbled, thrashing on top of his sleeping bag, his chest bare and bruised to a beautiful black and blue.  
  
Misty hmmfed, applying more tape to his ribs in an attempt to patch him up. "I don't think you have any right to complain, considering how lucky you are we found you." She gave him a wink and a small smile, pressing the adhesive down on his chest. "After all, how many friends would think to look for you twenty feet off of the ground?" She finished, patting the last of the tape with a little extra push.  
  
"OW!" He winced, crying out in pain. After Pidgeot had flown them into the forest, he and Pikachu had been caught on a branch that the Flying type had simply flown under. Pikachu had used its super-agility to escape harm. Ash, on the other hand, had been a little less fortunate...  
  
"There. All done. Anything else you need?" Misty asked him.  
  
Ash grinned devilishly. "Kiss it and make it better?" He asked wryly. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips. Instead of kissing him, Misty thwapped him upside the head. "Ow! Hey!"  
  
"Don't expect me to tape *that* one, Ash." she snorted, grinning. He responded by poking her in the ribs, getting a satisfying jump and a squeal out of her. "Oh, so you want to play it that way, do you?" She jabbed him lightly in his own ribs, which still throbbed from the crash landing.  
  
"OW!" he cried out. "You play too hard!" He squirmed and moaned, feigning her out of position. While she was off-balance trying to see whether or not he was all right, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her to the ground, rolling on top of her. "Ha! Gotcha, you little twerp."  
  
"Ash, cut it out!" Misty whined, trying to break his iron grip on her shoulders.  
  
He rolled his eyes, snorting. "C'mon, Misty, stop fighting like a girl."  
  
"Okay." She brought her fist straight into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Then, with an uncanny amount of strength, she shoved his body up off of hers and let it drop onto the hard, dusty ground. Before he could recover, she started to get him into a wrestling hold. "How's that?" she asked Pikachu, who had been observing the fight. Pikachu hopped over, laughing at its trainer as its face began to turn different colors with effort against the unbreakable joint lock.  
  
"No fair! No fair!" Ash cried out as Misty attempted to bend his legs into fleshy Ash-pretzels. His outstretched hand reached out for Brock and Dixie, who were sitting next to the campfire they had built the small wooded clearing. The spot was a choice location for camping out; the fuzzy firs and prickly pines gave them ample cover from the wind, but would allow them a fantastic view of the night sky come darkness. Brock labored over one of his collapsible pots, trying to put together a nice, easy meal after their ordeal with Team Rocket and their airship of doom. Dixie sat next to him, getting several dishes of Pokéchow ready for their Pokémon.  
  
"You're doing fine, Ash." Brock called out, never taking his slitted eyes off of the stew. "Just remember, pain is all in the mind."  
  
Misty bent his leg another quarter of an inch the wrong way. "OW!"  
  
"All in your mind." Brock repeated, trying to ignore Ash's howling. He tossed another onion into the mix, stirring and tasting with his trusted, treasured ladle. "Mmmm. Not enough oregano."  
  
"What is oregano?" Dixie asked, staring into the mix with a little hesitation. She had spent the past four months with them, and had figured out pretty quickly that Brock's cooking was a hit-or-miss prospect. Some of his dishes she had enjoyed overwhelmingly...others had simply overwhelmed her, period.  
  
"I don't know." he admitted, "But I'm pretty sure it would make this taste better." With a mischievous look in his eye, he raised his voice as he said, "Maybe I'll just throw a few carrots into the mix."  
  
That got Misty's attention. She stopped playing the amateur chiropractor on Ash's spine and snapped her head around, glaring at Brock with venom seeping from her icy blue eyes. "I HATE carrots!" Unfortunately, her moment culinary declaration was all Ash needed to wriggle free of her grasp. With a maniacal 'banzai!' he threw himself on top of her, trying to pin her to the ground. They rolled across the field together, laughing and crying out whenever one jabbed the other too hard. Pikachu chased after them, acting as half-referee and half-peanut gallery.   
  
Brock chuckled, shaking his head at the young pair as he continued to stir the pot of ingredients. With his twentieth birthday looming somewhere on the not-too-distant horizon, he sometimes worried that he might outgrow these kinds of adventures, or that he might outgrow his younger friends. Those moments were few and far between, though. Adventures were his life, and Ash and Misty were his friends. Age didn't matter. "It never fails." he commented to himself, tasting the concoction again.  
  
Dixie watched the pair rolling and laughing. She carefully squashed the glint of envy growing in her eyes, remembering a pair of friends from her past must like these friends and the way they used to get along. "Man," she commented, watching as Misty finally got Ash into another pin. He tried to get out of it by tickling her, but the attempt only got him a knee in his wounded ribs. "Those two are someth'n else. Are they...uh..." she scratched the back of her neck with embarrassment, hesitant to finish the question. "Are they goin' out, or...?"  
  
"They did." Brock winced as he burnt his mouth on the hot taste of stew he had in the ladle. Blowing on it to cool it down, he popped the mouthful in and winced again, this time at the taste rather than the temperature.  
  
"Oh."  
  
He looked over at her, his stew momentarily forgotten. "Why? You-" he stopped, getting a wry look on his face. "You don't have a crush on..."  
  
"What? NO!" she blushed bright red. She took another look over at the pair, who were starting to run out of steam, but not out of curses and playful insults. "Wellll," she drawled, her blush growing even brighter, "I dunno."  
  
"You do!" Brock nudged her. "It's okay," he said nonchalantly, patting her on the shoulder. "Plenty of people have had a crush on Misty before. You shouldn't be embarrassed."  
  
"BROCK!" she shrieked, slapping him on the shoulder as he busted out in laughter. "On Ash, stupid!" She sighed, watching Ash grapple with Misty as if she were his worst enemy, yet laugh and smile at her as if he were his one reason for being. She didn't dare hope she could have something like that again...did she? Even in the short time she had known him, Ash had never ceased to amaze her; he had sworn to collect all the badges in America in a single year, and he was well on his way to doing it. In just four months, he had managed to collect thirty-four new badges, cleaning out the entirety of New England. He and his Pokémon had managed better than two gyms a week without any sign of slowing. She had never been on so many cheap-seat busses and discount trains in her life! "Do you...naw, he'd never go for it! Would he?" she stared wistfully at the very heart of her question, studying his laughing amber eyes and the dark birthmarks that underscored them on each cheek.  
  
Brock froze for a moment, contemplating the question. Dixie put him in a difficult position. If he said no, then he ran the risk of shattering Dixie's hopes. On the other hand, if he said yes, it could lead to a whole slew of romantic problems, and he wasn't sure if he had the energy to deal with a teenage love triangle. On the *other* other hand, if he said "I don't know", he ran the risk of being asked additional, possibly more annoying questions by Dixie. In the end, he chose the best answer that made them all happy. "Dinner's ready!" he called out, retrieving several dishes from their packs and dipping his ladle into the pot.  
  
"Oh boy, dinner!" Misty got up, leaving a bruised and battered Ash to haul himself back to his feet. Pikachu tried to help, but only ended up being squished, used as a prop for Ash to struggle up on. "Last one there's a rotten Exeggcute!" Naturally, with Ash's ailing ribs and the fresh beating he had taken from the fiery redhead, Misty was first to the dinner cauldron. Ash limped in with Pikachu at his heel, both of their mouths salivating with the smell of dinner.  
  
"Wha'cha call this one, Brock?" Ash asked, pulling out his collapsible bowl and plastic camp spork.   
  
"I call this one 'Tortured Genius Without Ingredients'...sans oregano, of course." he grinned, dishing up his own bowl. After they had all dished up and released their Pokémon to their Pokéchow, the four teenagers dug in to Brock's stew, with Brock taking the first bite. As he was the first to begin, he was also the first to spit the horrendous stew off to the side, though not by much. They sputtered and gagged, trying to get the taste out of their collective mouths.  
  
"Oh MAN!" Ash coughed, pounding on his chest. "That stuff was like old congealed motor oil..."  
  
"With a hint of tar and grease." Misty added, scraping her tongue with her own spork and spitting what was left in her mouth out onto the ground. "Oh God, Brock. Just...oh God." She felt like putting her tongue in the fire, just so it could never go through the agony of tasting something like that again. "That's it. Tomorrow I'm doing all the cooking."  
  
Ash thought back to the last time that Misty had tried to cook. Most of the memory had thankfully been reduced to a blur over the years, but he distinctly recalled losing two pots, a perfectly good prepackaged Farfetch'd dinner, three spoons, the day's previous meal, and about twenty dollars in over-the-counter stomach medicine. "I don't know if we need to be *that* drastic..." he drawled.  
  
"Pika..." Pikachu shuddered, suppressing the chills it got whenever it thought of the sight of that horrible Farfetch'd in the scorched black pot. "Cha..."  
  
"Jerks." Misty grumbled.  
  
Dixie saw the tension building, and decided to try and change the subject. "Hey, if everything goes well, we won't have to worry about tomorrow's dinner anyhow! We're just a little ways from Swoop's compound as the Pidgey flies, so it shouldn't take us more'n a half-day to get there."  
  
"You sure this Swoop guy has the next HM?" Brock asked, picking up the cauldron with mitted hands. The Rock Master intended on dumping the failed culinary concoction at a safe distance from their sleeping bags. 'Maybe I should bury it...' he mused, hefting the pot off of its perch above the fire.  
  
Dixie nodded, pulling out the Itemfinder and strapping it on. "Mm-hmm." She intoned, activating the prototype locator and tuning it into the HM's settings. "Hidden Machine Oh-Two, I think. Like I thought, it ain't too far from here, at Swoop's compound."  
  
"Why does a research assistant have a compound out in the middle of nowhere, anyway?" Ash asked, pulling out a Camper's Choice Nutra-Bar and peeling away the wrapper. He was just about to take a big bite, but stopped as he noticed Pikachu salivating at his feet with wobbly eyes as wide as saucers. With a defeated sigh, he broke the bar in half and put part of the bar straight into the greedy claws of the tiny Pokémon, who began cramming the meal-in-a-bar between its tiny fangs. Somehow, Ash had never been able to resist Pikachu's "goo-goo eyes", probably because the Pokémon had learned it from him whenever he had tried to mooch money off of his mom. It never failed on her, either. "Something your grandfather sponsored?"  
  
"Nothin' of granddad's." Dixie felt a small twinge of sadness slip through her defenses at the mentioning of her late grandfather. "Naw, I remember when Swoop left to go out on his own. Wanted to get away from it all, so he built this big ol' place out here in the mountains. It's real tranquil, from what grampa told me." She chased away the fleeting pangs of depression, forcing her mind out of the past and back into the present. "I'm sure he won't mind us dropping in. Swoop's a real stand-up guy."  
  
"Well," Ash crunched thoughtfully on the bland bar, "With Team Rocket out of the way for a while, I don't see any reason why this won't be a cakewalk." He grinned. "We can't fail!"  
* * *  
  
"You failed."  
  
Delta gulped silently, hoping that his anxiety wasn't too obvious to the person on the other end of the communication. Steadying the hand that held his field comm unit, he started lamely, "Omega, it wasn't like that. I've just experienced a...small delay, nothing more."  
  
Omega glared at him, obviously fuming beneath his cool exterior, obviously trying to hide it, and obviously not succeeding. "You underestimated him." It wasn't a question, or even an accusation. It was merely a statement, one that happened to be bang-on correct. "Not only that, but you lost a very valuable airship worth millions."  
  
"I...Perhaps I did underestimate him, if only a little." Delta offered. "Still, I did just as you ordered; I was prepared to kill a Pokémon trainer."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And that wasn't what I encountered!" Delta shot back, letting his annoyance get the better of him. "The boy is something else, Omega! None of my shots landed, none of my traps worked, and none of my attacks got through. I'm finally starting to see why Alpha had so-"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Omega silenced him angrily, his temper finally breaking. With a small sigh, he brushed back several rogue locks of auburn hair out of his eyes and evened out his temperament. "Alpha's performance is of no consequence to you at the moment. I don't want excuses, I don't want delays. Bring me the head of Ashlan Ketchum within forty-eight hours." There was a definite 'or else' hanging on the end of that order. With one final, meaningful glance, Omega cut the communication linking the two assassins, leaving Delta to sigh with relief and lean against the grassy hill behind him.  
  
"Wow..." came a high-pitched, obnoxious voice from behind him, "Dat guy doesn't seem like a real friendly fellow." He whirled upon the first tones of the voice, his gun drawn in mid-turn and aimed at the source of the words by the time he had moved a full one-eighty degrees.  
  
Meowth found himself staring down the barrel of one of Delta's custom made weapons, and gulped in fear. "Sorry...didn't mean ta sneak up on ya." He explained lamely. Jessie and James stood at his side, arms up in the air and knees quaking in terror of the gun that Delta held.  
  
Delta lowered the pistol, groaning. "You're alive." he grunted, holstering the weapon and rising to his feet. "I didn't think you made it out of the airship before it exploded."  
  
"We didn't." James warbled, his arms still in the air after the terrifying shock of being in Delta's sights.  
  
"We just have a knack for surviving those kinds of things." Jessie added helpfully.  
  
Delta began scouting the area for a suitable camp sight. "It doesn't matter. Get some rest and report to me at sunrise. Tomorrow," he promised not only the three Rockets, but himself as well, "We're going to find those four, and when we do, there won't be enough left of them to fill a teaspoon." He stalked off in a huff, his hand absently slapping against the gun holstered at his hip.  
  
"James, make a note..." Jessie trembled, still remaining motionless, "Don't sneak up on a trained assassin."  
  
He whimpered. "I'd love to, but first I think I need to change my shorts..."  
* * *  
  
"Oh my God..." Dixie murmured in horror, her field pack slipping off of her shoulders as they sagged under the new weight of hopelessness that she felt spreading through her body. They had seen the smoke from miles away this morning, and so had quickened their pace in order to investigate. 'Maybe they're just having a big barbecue.' Brock had joked with trepidation.  
  
He had been right...it was a humongous, hideous barbecue that had enveloped the entirety of Swoop's compound, spreading out from the main cluster of tiny wooden structures in the center to the outer walls set up to ward off wild Pokémon and unwanted guests. The fires that had once blazed now smoldered, their life drained and fuel mostly spent. As nearly as Dixie could figure, Swoop's compound resembled something like the old time forts and trading posts that had existed along the frontier in the early days of pioneering. Those days of exploration were gone, but the dangers were not, as the fire clearly attested.  
  
"Not really peaceful anymore, is it?" Misty couldn't help but comment as they stepped through the remains of the log gate, which now hung off of broken hinges.  
  
"Not much of a compound anymore, either." Ash answered, keeping a close eye on Pikachu as they picked their way through the rubble towards the central buildings. Deep inside, he secretly mourned for Dixie; the girl had already had so much tragedy in her life, she didn't need anything like this happening to her now or anytime later. "Pikachu, you smell anything?" Pikachu sniffed the air, trying to pick up a scent. All of a sudden, the hairs on its back stood up, and it began growling fiercely.  
  
"What is it?" Dixie asked, looking at the usually cuddly Pikachu, who now appeared as ferocious and feral as any wild Pokémon she had ever seen.  
  
"Trouble." Ash muttered, scanning the compound with his eyes. Ahead, Brock waved to them as he jogged up to the main building in the compound. He had run ahead, overcoming the shock of seeing a once peaceful retreat in such condition quickly and instead tapping into his natural curiosity. The Rock trainer cautiously opened the door to the main building.  
  
From inside, the building first looked to be an office of sorts, one that had clearly been ransacked, with papers scattered everywhere and filing cabinets tipped over, their contents spilling more papers onto the already-cluttered floor. Taking a second glance, though, Brock saw more personal touches; several bookcases lined the far wall, now devoid of the books that had been ripped from their shelves. A large bay window let sight stream into the otherwise dark room, almost like a sideways skylight.  
  
"Looks like someone tore the inside up," Brock called back to his friends before entering the room, "Almost as bad as the outside..." he muttered. Gingerly, he worked his way across the area, picking his way through the debris. He wasn't certain what it was he was looking for in the wreck, but he knew it when he found it. "Hey guys!" he yelled excitedly to his younger friends, "Guys, come quick! I found someone!" Buried underneath one of the overturned bookcases was an aging man of what looked to be about fifty or sixty years old, wearing a tattered sweater and an old pair of aviator goggles on his forehead. The old man was somewhere between unconscious and wake, emitting several moans as he shifted ever so slightly beneath his entrapment. Brock rushed forward, trying to lift the bookcase with a low grunt. All he got for his efforts were nothing, with a pulled muscle in his back generously added.  
  
Ash, Misty, Dixie, and Pikachu rushed through the door, spying Brock and coming to his aid quickly. Soon, they had lifted the bookshelves off of the old timer and extracted him from the mess. "Swoop..." Dixie patted the man's cheek gently, trying to wake him up. "Swoop! C'mon, you old coot, wake up. It's me; It's Dixie, remember?" She shook the groaning, wizen man. "C'mon!"  
  
"Dixie, tone it down and switch to Decaf!" Brock pulled her away from Swoop before she could hurt him more than he already was. He began to examine Swoop, patting him down and feeling for broken bones. "Hmm...he seems okay," he muttered, "But I can't be...huh?" His hand bumped into something hard, flat, and flexible as he brushed the older man's shirt pocket. Curious, he pulled out what appeared to be a mini-disk, the kind used for recording and data storage. "What's this?"  
  
"I..." Swoop's cracked lips parted for a moment. He began to moan and thrash weakly, as if fevered. "I...Island." he groaned softly.  
  
"What island, Swoop?" Dixie asked anxiously, pushing Brock out of the way and leaning in close to Swoop's face. "Pokémon Island? Give me something to go on, old timer!" she pleaded.  
  
"I...Island...flying..."  
  
"Island...flying?" Dixie repeated slowly.  
  
Swoop's eyes flew open. He sat up with a start, his gaze unfocused and mind ablaze. "Flying island!" he screamed. "Get away, get away, get away!" With that, he fainted dead away, thumping against the floor.  
  
"Hey guys!" Misty called over from the opposite side of the room. She stood in front of the closet door, smirking smugly, as if she kept a secret that no one else had. "Guess what I found." With a grand flourish, she swung the closet wide open, allowing the bound and gagged forms of Mr. Shades and Mr. Spike to fall out of the crowded space. They wriggled on the ground, trying to untangle themselves from each other as they struggle against the rope that trapped their arms and legs.  
  
"You two!" Dixie accused angrily, crossing the room in a few furious strides. She kicked Spike, receiving a satisfying, muffled scream from the mercenary as her foot planted into his stomach. "Y'all did this to poor Swoop, didn't you? A poor old man who wouldn't harm a soul and you ransacked his place! Y'aught to be ashamed!" She kicked Shades next, sneering with contempt.  
  
"Dix," Ash's hand curled into a fist as the growing ball of tension and fear settled in his stomach, "They didn't do this...how could they have, they were locked up in the closet."  
  
"Who did?" She kicked each of the terrorists once more for good measure, then looked to Ash with a questioning gaze.  
  
He took the mini-disk from Brock, pulling out Dexter. "I've only known one person who uses a flying island." he muttered.  
* * *  
  
Lawrence III, the Collector.  
  
The wispy, tall, imposing figure stood a mere four inches tall on top of Dexter, produced from the ether by the Pokédex's holoprojection unit. He was just as Ash remembered him; whitish-blonde hair crowning a face that was smug, as well as cold and calculating. His frame was powerfully built, especially for a man who sat at a control panel nearly every time Ash encountered him. Even as a pre-recorded message, his eyes sent shivers down Ash's spine. Pikachu, upon seeing the image pop out of Dexter, began to hiss and snarl.  
  
"PIKA!"  
  
"Oh my God..." Misty murmured, her hand flying to her mouth in fear. "I thought we had seen the last of him three years back...Wasn't he killed at Cerulean?"  
  
"I guess not even a psychic blast the size of a small city was enough to take him out." Brock gritted his teeth, recalling the last time they had encountered the terror from the sky and his insane idea of finding the Unknown Dungeon. "What does he want this time? We don't know where Mewtwo is..."  
  
"Greetings, Mr. Ketchum." the image began to speak, as if responding to Brock's inquiry. "No doubt you are wondering as to how I survived our last encounter. I can assure you that this is no message from the grave, despite Mewtwo's best efforts. I have gone at great lengths to track you and your friends down, Mr. Ketchum, so please listen well."  
  
"Who is this guy?" Dixie asked. She was more confused than ever, now. Instead of an answer, though, she received a shushing from the rest of them, even Pikachu. "Well so-rry." she sniffed.  
  
"I know what it is you are after." the image of Lawrence held up a small, plain looking chip, one that closely resembled a TM chip. "During my brief 'visit' with your friend here, I acquired HM Oh-Two. I believe that it was this you were after. Therefore, I propose a deal; I will give you the chip, and all I require of you is that you come...alone. No doubt you are playing this in that highly capable Pokédex of yours. Embedded within the disk's program, it will find a series of coordinates. I will await you there until midnight, though I hope you will have the good taste to arrive sooner. Until then." the image of Lawrence flickered, then snapped out of existence with one last flash of light, leaving the three teenagers and their Pokémon pika-partner.  
  
"I don't get it..." Dixie started slowly, assuming that it was all right to speak now that the recording had stopped. She tried to break through the others' pensive mood as they just stood there, soaking in what the strange message had told them. "Who's this guy? And why does he want my grampa's prototypes?"  
  
Ash shook his head. He popped the disk out of Dexter's reader port. "Dexter, do you have the coordinates?" he asked the palmtop database.  
  
"It's all in the ol' noggin, Ash." Dexter responded, flashing a two dimensional map on his screen. "But I think he might have set the deadline a wee too soon. It's at least a day's hike from here...assuming you're crazy enough to try and take him on..." the Pokédex trailed off, already knowing what Ash intended to do.  
  
"I don't plan on walking." Ash muttered. He pulled a link cable from his jacket's pocket, then proceeded to download the directions from Dexter into his Pokégear. After doing that, he disconnected Dexter and handed him off to Misty. "Here," he instructed her, "Take Dex...and these." With only a moment of torn hesitation, Ash unstrapped his Pokébelt and handed that to her as well. He glanced down at Pikachu, meeting the Pokémon's eyes for only a moment. Pikachu nodded back at him, then leapt up on his shoulder, steadying itself with a paw on his reversed hat.  
  
"Hold on, cowboy." Misty shifted the things Ash had handed her to free one of her own hands, and placed it on his non-Pikachu'ed shoulder. "Dexter's right...for once...We would have to be out of your right mind to take Lawrence on."  
  
"*We* aren't doing anything." Ash reached forward, plucking one of the Pokéballs off of the belt before Misty could stop him. He then turned to leave the building, but was halted again by Misty's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Ash, you aren't doing this alone." Brock told him flatly, taking a stance next to Misty with his arms folded defiantly across his chest. Ash turned around, which actually surprised both of his old friends. "Look, we're in this together. If you go, then we all go."  
  
Ash sighed heavily, callously brushing Misty's hand away. "Look, we don't have time for this. Lawrence doesn't give a Pidgey's droppings about the Hidden Machines. He's just using them as bait, and it's fairly obvious that I'm the target." He clenched the Pokéball tightly in his hand, nearly crushing the marble-sized piece of technological wonderment. "Whatever he has planned, I'm going to stop it. I'll stop him once and for all...just like I should have when I had the chance." With that, he walked outside wordlessly. In a handful of heartbeats, Ash expanded and activated the ball, releasing Pidgeot onto the ground.   
  
Brock, Misty, and Dixie followed out the door, watching as Ash and Pikachu mounted the aerial steed. They couldn't help but notice that Ash couldn't do so without a modicum of pain; his ribs, though taped, were still sore and very susceptible. Reaching back into his pack, Ash pulled out a pair of flight goggles. One of them, the normal-sized one, he strapped to his own head, snapping the elastic band around his hat so it wouldn't blow off. The miniaturized pair he slipped onto Pikachu, being careful not to put them on too tight. "If I'm not back by tomorrow..." he trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.  
  
"We'll wait some more." Misty called out to him.  
Brock looked to Pidgeot, then to the rodent clinging to its back. "You two make sure he doesn't do anything *really* stupid, understand?" he told the pair of Pokémon.  
  
"Jyo!"  
  
"Chu..."  
  
Leaving the rest unsaid, Ash pressed his heels softly into Pidgeot's midsection, signaling it to take off. With a burst from its powerful wings, the bird/steed shot into the sky with a jolt, jarring Ash's ribs painfully as the trio flew unsteadily into the air. At around a hundred feet or so, Pidgeot leveled them off and began to soar over the landscape, taking directions from Ash, who was taking directions from Gear.  
  
Misty sighed, her posture slumping noticeably as she slung the Pokébelt over her shoulder. "I hate it when he goes on these crusades without us." she kicked a random piece of debris, hoping to work out some of the frustration. The tension in her soul remained, though, joined by a new, throbbing pain in her foot. "This sucks."  
  
"Yeah..." Brock stuck his hands into his pockets, letting his gaze dip towards the ground. "Guess we'll just have to wait here 'til Ash gets back or gets killed." He and Misty shared a knowing look, then burst out laughing. Dixie could only stare at the two as they laughed uncontrollably, her confusion multiplying. "Oh man, that was funny!" Brock giggled, wiping a tear from his slitted eye.  
  
"Yeah." Misty wiped away her own tears, growing serious. "Now, how are we going to follow him?"  
  
"I have just the thing." Brock pulled a Pokéball from his belt and activated the release, then tossed it as far as he could. With an enormous explosion of light, his Onix took the center stage of the compound, roaring and raising its head high into the sky. "Welcome to the Onix Express." He jogged over, scrambling onto the segmented snake, letting his legs dangle over the side. "My name is Brock, and I'll be your driver for the evening. Please climb aboard, and secure all luggage before departure." Quick as a wink, he helped the two girls up onto Onix, then gave it a hardy slap on one of its boulders. "Onix, Pidgeot took off in that direction...get moving, and don't skimp on the speed!"  
  
"How're we gonna follow him?" Dixie asked. She was growing very weary of asking questions that went unanswered, and hoped for her friends' sake that one of them chose to respond.  
  
Misty grinned, pulling out Ash's Pokédex and flipping it back on. "Well," she mused innocently, "It just so happens that someone gave me this to hold on to. Dexter:" she talked to the Pokédex sternly, "Can you get a lock on Gear's transmitter?"  
  
"Can your Psyduck screw up even the easiest battle?" Dexter responded smugly. Without any more smart comments, he displayed Gear's geographic progress as the watch-like Pokégear rode on Ash's wrist. They're moving a lot faster than us, but we won't lose track of them. Besides, I still have the original coordinates, so we shouldn't even need to track them at all."  
  
"Maybe so," Misty said, "But if Lawrence has proven anything in the past, it's that he doesn't always follow the rules, even the ones he sets."  
  
"So just who *is* this guy you guys are so afraid of?" Dixie stamped her foot down on Onix, nearly loosing her footing as the enormous Pokémon continued its fast trek across the wooded terrain. Only Brock's quick hand steadied her, keeping her on top of the rock snake rather than under it. "What's he done to you guys?"  
  
Misty gave Brock an ironclad glance, one that seemed to say 'You tell her.' He sighed heavily, wondering where to begin. "It all started five years ago, out in the Orange Archipelago..."  
* * *  
  
"Alone its song will fail..." Ash's mind wandered through his own past as their target came into sight. It had taken several hours of flight, but they had managed to make it with plenty of time to spare. The sun was only now beginning to dip below the horizon, sending a splash of reds, yellows, and violets across the evening sky. "Thus the earth shall turn to Ash..." He had always wondered why the foreboding inscriptions were so literal. "Nearly five years later," he spoke aloud, "And now it turns to me again."  
  
Pikachu looked up at its trainer from where it was safely nestled between his legs, which straddled Pidgeot. "Pika?" Pikachu never liked it when Ash began to talk to himself; it usually meant that trouble was brewing, the kind of trouble that often led to a ferocious battle. "Pika. Pi, pika-cha, cha pikachu pika, pikachu."  
  
"No, Pikachu," Ash assured him, "I'm all right. I'm not alone this time; I have you and Pidgeot." He rubbed the bird's head absently, his mind briefly flittering to his injured ribs within his warm Silph jacket. 'I just hope Pidgeot doesn't choke again...' he couldn't help but think, 'I don't know if I'd survive it.'  
  
"Jyo!"  
  
Pidgeot's shrill cry brought him back to reality. He turned his eyes forward, taking a good look at what lay ahead. It was hard to miss: An enormous fortress hanging in the sky, held aloft by dozens upon dozens of rotating props that covered the top and bottom of the steel island. A majority of the structure was composed of nothing more than girders, practically uninhabitable, leaving only a small section in the middle that Lawrence used for his operations. It was a *large* small section, though, and Ash knew all too well that the girders themselves held deadly weapons of their own, hidden within the maze of steel and rivets. The island had its running lights blazing, lighting up several key points on the structure in the twilight sky for observers to see.  
  
"Take us in, Pidgeot, as fast as you can." Ash held on tightly, gritting his teeth and squinting behind his goggles. Supersonic speeds were no problem for Pidgeot, he knew, but he also knew that his feathery pilot had trouble maneuvering with a pair of passengers. The bird heeded, slamming its wings back and accelerating rapidly, nearly throwing Ash and Pikachu off in the process. The island continued to grow in their collective perspectives. "My God..." Ash murmured, "It has to be a half-mile wide..." It was obvious that Lawrence had done some serious shopping since their last encounter at Cerulean City. "At least he got a good trade-in for the old one, huh, Pikachu?"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu snarled viciously, sparking at the cheeks. Ash couldn't blame his Pokémon; after all the horrible things Lawrence had done to them, he was itching to get a piece of the collector himself. They were now within relative spitting distance of the island. Ash could feel the backwash from the gigantic props interfering with Pidgeot's flight, making the bird shake and tremble a bit as it tried to compensate.  
  
*Ah, Mr. Ketchum...* a booming, static-filled voice startled Ash, nearly jarring him off of Pidgeot and sending him plummeting to an untimely death. *I'm so glad you decided to take me up on my offer. Please, come in.* With a loud whirring of hidden gears and motors, a small hatch on the side of the inner section of the island opened up, revealing a landing bay of sorts to the outside world.  
  
Ash scowled. He was no fool (most of the time), and knew a trap when he saw one. "How about you come out here, Lawrence?" he shouted, hearing his voice echo off of the girders and bounce around him. "It's been so long, why don't we come out here and...shoot the breeze?"  
  
He heard the ominous man sigh over the PA, which was not a good sign. *I can see that you're going to make this difficult. Very well, I was prepared for such a happening.* A short click signaled the end of his broadcast, leaving Ash hanging in the air atop Pidgeot. For a moment, a very long moment, there was only the thrumming of the propellers to keep the trio of travelers company in their flight.  
  
"Hello?" Ash shouted again, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Blast it, Lawrence, I came here, just like you said! Let's get this over and done with already!"  
  
The old adage, "Be careful what you wish for," suddenly came back to bite Ash square in his seat; a small burst of light came roaring out of the opened bay, glinting silvery-orange in the twilight aurora that blanketed the sky. Ash couldn't see what they were in the poor lighting, but they were moving towards them at an amazing rate. "Pidgeot, take evasive!"  
  
Ash's Pokémon pilot heeded his warning just in time as it juked to the left, avoiding a shot of light from one of the new arrival that flew past them. Ash could feel the hairs next to his ear getting singed as the beam shot past his shoulder. There was hardly time for him to feel relief as a dogfight was born within the girders of Lawrence's dark isle in the sky. Now that they were closer, the trainer and his Pokémon could see what they were up against.   
Seeing and recognizing were two different things, though; it wasn't like anything he had ever seen before.   
It was a machine, as near as he could tell, made of cold, dull steel, or something even harder. The robot was shaped relatively like a bird, with short, sharp wings swept back along a box-like body, with twin engines ablaze at the rear. A pair of red glowing optics donned its angular head, with a nasty looking muzzle protruding from each shoulder.  
  
"Sweet mother of mercy..." Ash cried out, "Those aren't Pokémon!" More rounds went flying past the airborne trio, strengthening Ash's resolve and fraying his nerves. "Guess that means we don't have to go easy on them...Pikachu!" he pointed at the target, gauging Pikachu's attacks and trying to pick out the best one. "Thunderbolt!"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu began to focus its energy, letting the storm of electricity within it grow and seep out. Small rivulets of golden power began to course over its body, flowing like rivers and sparking like mad. "Pi...Ka...Chuu!" With a short battle cry, Pikachu sent a powerful blast of electricity shooting out of its body, striking the mechanical menace at the speed of light with several terravolts of force. The machine withstood the attack for only a fraction of a second, its circuitry never intended to handle such a massive surge of power, then overloaded. Smoke billowed out of its engines as the mecha spiraled downward, catching ablaze before finally striking the ground with one last, grand explosion.  
  
"Nice shot, Pikachu!" Ash praised Pikachu, patting it on the head. He smirked, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting, "Is that the best you can do, Lawrence? I am soooo disappointed."  
  
Lawrence didn't respond verbally. Instead, Ash looked on in horror as more bright flashes appeared in the confines of the open bay...many, many more flashes. Dozens of the terrifying metallic centurions shot out of the opening, forming up into squadrons and making a beeline for Ash and his Pokémon. Their cold, red, merciless eyes blazed in the now-night sky, making the three targets even more afraid. Even from a good two hundred yards, Ash could see the barrels of their lasers surging with shots ready for firing.  
  
"We are 'so' screwed..." Ash muttered, digging his heels into Pidgeot and urging the Pokémon to pick up speed.  
* * *  
  
Unknown to Ash, his friends, and even Lawrence III, another Pidgeot was streaking towards the iron city in the sky at a speed that was almost as fast as Ash's. This Pidgeot was much different from his, though; it was dozens of times larger, and made from a titanium exostructure. Instead of wing power, this Pidgeot flew at Mach speeds with its massive fusion thruster that left a flame-streaked contrail behind the metal bird's flattened, feathery tail fins. This Pidgeot had no brain, but instead a pair of pilots, staring out its visor-like windshield as they tried to keep the ship steady.  
  
"Altitude holding at Angel oh-two," James called out from the Pidjet's seat, flipping the radar toggle while keeping one hand on the stick. "Course is one-three-eight and holding. Negative tally on the target, and no radar contact."  
  
Jessie blinked, staring at James from her place in the co-pilot's seat. She scratched her red-adorned crown in confusion. "Uh, James...I have no idea what you just said."  
  
Meowth's eyes crossed as he tried to make sense of the gibberish. "I tink he said something about an Angel named Tally..." the Hollywood tabby with a Brooklyn accent said. "Jeez, I feel like a need a decoder ring ta talk to dis guy."  
  
He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with embarrassment. "Sorry. My parents had me take piloting lessons when I was younger, and the lingo really stuck with me." He cleared his throat, double-checking the radar screen. "We're leveled off, and I'm not detecting the twerp or his overgrown messenger Pidgey." He sighed, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up against the control panel. Ironically enough, it was that habit that got him kicked 'out' of piloting lessons when he was younger, too. "Y'know, I'm getting kind of tired of this assassin business and all."  
  
"James!"  
  
He scowled. "Well, it's true. I mean, really; when was the last time we tried to steal Pikachu, or any Pokémon for that matter!" He grunted, folding his arms across his chest. "Lately it's just been 'Go kill this,' or 'Go kill that.' Well, maybe I don't like killing this or that. Just because I'm rotten doesn't mean I'm a murderer."  
  
"Meow!" Meowth shook his head matter-of-factly. "You'd better not let Delta hear ya say dat. He'd probably fill ya with so much lead dat da doctors couldn't even x-ray whatever was left."  
  
"Or maybe he'd agree with him."  
  
The voice startled the Rocket trio. Jessie shrieked, and James immediately swung his legs down off of the panel, bumping the stick and sending the plane jerking off to the left, which only made Jessie shriek more. Before they could crash, Meowth grabbed the stick and stabilized the Pidjet's course. As the commotion died down, Delta couldn't help but smile at the disheveled agents. "Sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"Well, you DID!" Jessie snarled. Then she remembered who she was talking to, and slapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry..." she squeaked.  
  
He grunted, shaking his head. Looking about the cockpit, he couldn't help but marvel at the amazing transportation they had managed to conjure up on such short notice. "This assault craft is incredible. How on Earth did you get it...and so quickly?"  
  
"We have a friend in da Rocket Supply Depot." Meowth explained. "He manages ta get us most of da stuff we need pretty quickly." Then the cat tipped his head, looking at the assassin as if in a new light. "Hey, wha'ja mean by dat 'agreeing' stuff, anyhow?"  
  
He chuckled, taking a seat at one of the aft navigation panels. "You think I joined Team Rocket to kill people? I came here for the same reason as you three...I had nowhere else to turn." He pulled out one of his custom pistols, letting his eye travel past the handle, over the laser sight, down the muzzle, until it finally rested in the trigger. "But, like any big operation, Team Rocket needs people where their skills will be most useful. It just so happened that my best skill was this." he hefted the piece before returning it to the holster at his hip. "You know, you're lucky..."  
  
"Why?" Meowth was the only one that dared to ask.  
  
Delta stood, heading back towards the rear section. "You have each other, and the freedom to travel anywhere." He took one last, longing look out the windshield, as if looking for the freedom he longed for. "All I have is myself, and my assignment." With that, he left the cockpit, leaving the three of them speechless.  
  
"Who would have guessed it..." Jessie's black heart swelled with sympathy and remorse. For the first time in years, she felt tears stinging in her eyes.  
  
"An Omega Red...just as vulnerable as a human being." James, on the other hand, was openly weeping, as he did biweekly (and that was on a good week). "It's beautiful..."  
  
"Yeah, in a sick, twisted sort of way..." Meowth muttered. He smacked James on the back of the head, cutting off the waterworks. "Hey, Top Gun! Keep an eye on that radar. We know dat twerp was headin' dis way, and we still got a job ta do." 'If we're lucky,' he silently added, 'It'll be da last mission like dis...'  
* * *  
  
Ash awoke slowly, aware of only two things. One; his head hurt...a lot. Two; his ribs, which were thankfully still taped, hurt a lot more. "Unnghhhh...Muhhhh? Zuhhh..."  
  
"Feeling exceptionally verbal today, Mr. Ketchum? I must say, it's more intelligent than the usual drivel you constantly spout." Lawrence's voice resonated against his skull, sounding like a dull roar in a typhoon of throbbing pain. Ash gritted his teeth, fighting down a wave of rage. Even when he was totally disoriented and in extraordinary pain, he could recognize that smarmy, smug man's voice. From what he could tell, he was strapped to something cold and metal, hung upright off of the floor.  
  
'I'll show him...' Ash thought with gritted teeth, 'Just as soon as the room stops spinning...and after they get that brass band out of my head.' He tried to focus his eyes, managing to conceive a fuzzy image of wherever it was he was. All he could discern was that he was inside rather than outside now, with some sort of artificial lights bathing them in painful brightness. The walls inside were a very light violet, trimmed around the edges with a deep maroon border. Off to his right was a wall made up entirely of glass plating, letting the full moon shine in on the large, open room Lawrence had placed his prisoners in. "Where are Pikachu and Pidgeot?"  
  
"Your Pokémon are unharmed." Lawrence's voice came from behind him. With a sudden jerk and a whirring of gears, the flat metal board he was strapped to began to rotate slowly, turning past the bay windows until it was facing opposite of before. With most of the fuzz out of his brain, Ash could now clearly see the face of his enemy. Lawrence looked much like he did several years before, when Ash had encountered him last. The collector wore the same haughty, superior expression, with a high-collared wraparound tunic and silken black pants to match.   
  
Roughly a dozen meters behind him were a pair of powerful containment fields, almost identical to the ones he had used on the legendary triplets nearly five years ago. One held Pikachu, who looked ridiculous hovering in a field that was built ten sizes too large for it. Pidgeot resided in the other, and filled it out a bit better. Ash recalled the last few minutes before their capture; Pidgeot just hadn't been able to out-fly the robotic drones, not with a payload riding on its back. 'Maybe I should have brought someone bigger?' the thought slipped in through his head. He promptly tried to shake it out, but it refused to leave. He had chosen Pidgeot because he had trained the bird longer...but what if he hadn't trained it well enough? What if Pidgeot just wasn't strong enough?  
  
"Lawrence..." Ash tried to sound casual, even though the anxiety inside of him was rapidly building. "You're looking well, considering you've lost...what is it now, two flying fortresses?"  
  
Lawrence smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Mr. Ketchum. Still brash and arrogant as ever, I see."  
  
"That's the pot calling the kettle black."  
  
"And clever, as well." He allowed, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "However, as much as I would like to match wits with you, Mr. Ketchum, I fear that I have a schedule to keep. Therefore, I suggest we make our transaction brief." Seemingly from nowhere, he produced a small, silvery chip, balanced delicately between his thumb and forefinger. The chip glinted and shone in the harsh artificial lighting, almost shimmering in Ash's watery eyes. "This is, if I am not mistaken, what you were searching for."  
  
The teen's eyes went wide as he realized just what the small piece of metal and plastic was. He squinted, managing to make out a tiny inscription on the chip despite his adjusting eyesight. "That's the second Hidden Machine!" he exclaimed, jerking against his bonds as he tried to lunge forward in excitement. His ribs immediately began screaming in protest, forcing him to calm down.  
  
"Indeed." Lawrence pocketed the HM once more, letting his hands fold across his broad chest. "I am prepared to give you the Hidden Machine, Mr. Ketchum."  
  
"In exchange for what?" Ash eyed the collector warily. He knew that nothing good could come of dealing with the likes of this man. On the other hand, he didn't have much other choice than to hear him out...for the moment.  
  
Lawrence smiled. Rather than answer Ash's question, he turned and began to walk away from the trainer. "Mr. Ketchum, you no doubt recall our first encounter that fateful day in the Orange Archipelago."  
  
"How could I forget?" Ash spat sarcastically. "You started shooting up the islands, then you captured two of the Elemental Titans, which made the planet's ecosystem go bonkers." His brow furrowed at the memory of snow falling on a hot June day in the tropical island. Silently, he promised himself that he would personally plant Lawrence's face into something hard, blunt, and fairly unpleasant the first chance he got. "You captured me, my friends, and after that you tried to take Lugia."  
  
"Indeed."   
  
Lawrence was about to continue, but Ash interrupted him, "I have to say, my favorite part of the whole ordeal was when Lugia pasted you with that Mega Beam of his..."  
  
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Ketchum." Lawrence's voice betrayed a modicum of annoyance.  
  
"That island must've been worth, what-one hundred million? Two hundred?"  
  
"Mr. Ketchum..."  
  
"It had to have been a lot," Ash smirked, "And not just the hardware...all those priceless works of art and artifacts you kept aboard that you had swiped from museums and other collectors over the decades..."  
  
"ENOUGH!"  
  
Ash stopped in mid-sentence, slightly surprised that he had actually gotten Lawrence angry. The moment didn't last long; Lawrence cleared his throat loudly, smoothing back his hair and tugging respectably on his collar. "The point I am trying to make, Mr. Ketchum," he continued calmly, "Is that you do not realize 'why' I attempted to acquire Lugia." His piercing gaze bored into Ash's eyes, almost as if he were trying to burn a hole in the boy's head with willpower alone. "Well?"  
  
Ash tried to shrug, pulling off only a painfully uncomfortable twitch in his restrained position. "I dunno...you were bored?"  
  
"Perhaps I overestimated you..." Lawrence mused, rubbing his chin. He then thrust a decisive finger into the air, pressing ahead with the lengthy exposition. "In any case, you are wrong. I sought to acquire the Guardian of the Sea because he was a piece of the puzzle...a puzzle that I, regrettably, possess only one-third off." Bringing his left wrist up to his right hand, he pressed a control that had been hidden in his sleeve. With a slow, groaning mechanical sigh, the ceiling split and began to recede out of sight. A large, black, crackling containment device creeped into sight, larger than any other set of containment rings Lawrence had ever used before. Even more amazing was what he had trapped within the rings.  
  
"Oh my God..." Ash whispered hoarsely.  
  
The Pokémon was screeching in terror, not used to being held captive and certainly not used to anything it couldn't simply overpower. It had long, haphazard feathers, colored a brilliant red and orange, with hints of yellow and white around its wingtips. Its beak was long, and very loud to Ash's sensitive ears. The Pokémon's eyes were impossibly black, and instantly focused on Lawrence III with a hatred that Ash thought only he could amass for the insane collector.  
  
"I present to you," Lawrence gestured with a flourish, "The legendary phoenix: Ho-Oh."  
* * *  
  
"There it is, Brock." Misty stood next to the beefy trainer's Onix, her hands planted on her hips. She had thought that the island might be hard to spot in the night sky, but her fears were unfounded; Lawrence had all of the running lights and searchlights of his magnificent airship going full steam. It was almost as if he didn't care who or what spotted him. That was his second mistake.  
  
His first had been screwing with her Ash.  
  
Her Ash?  
  
She shook her head clear of any stray thoughts, promising to come back to 'that' one later. In the meantime, though, they had to figure out a plan of attack.  
  
Dixie could only gape in awe, her jaw slackening at the very sight of the island. "My God..." she breathed, "It's bigger'n anything I've ever seen...airbornewise, anyway..." She turned back to Brock, who was just dismounting Onix. "How're we supposed to beat someth'n like that? It'd take half the Air Force to bring it down!"  
  
Brock began considering Lawrence's sanctuary thoughtfully, folding his arms and letting his teeth grind together. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a way to bring the ship down. Of course, with his friend and his friend's Pokémon inside, it wasn't necessarily a good idea to try and blow it out of the sky in the first place. Alternatives began to flow from the back of his mind...  
"Ah ha!" He walked around to the other side of Onix, out of sight of his two lady friends, and began rummaging through his pack. He reappeared in a moment, his arms laden with a large watermelon. "Okay, here's the plan; first, let's say that this melon represents one of us."  
  
"Oh...kay." the girls harmonized slowly.  
  
He nodded, then proceeded to place the watermelon on Onix's tail. "Now, the beauty of this plan is, it's so simple that it's foolproof." He stepped out in front of Onix and began to direct it while explaining. "Onix, you'll use a sort of modified Rock Throw attack and hurl us up at that flying island. Then," he continued, pulling out a Pokéball, "In mid-flight, I'll recall Onix back into his ball, and we'll land safely on the island. No fuss, no muss." Brock patted Onix's segmented body as the Pokémon gave him a look as if its trainer had just gone insane.  
  
"Brock, that has to be the stupidest idea I've ever heard." Misty folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at the trainer. " I've heard every single stupid plan that *Ash* has come up with, but this one tops it by a mile and a half."  
  
He gave her a pained look, sighing. "Look, I'll show you." He turned back to his massive rock snake, pointing out the gigantic fortress in the air. "Onix, launch that melon onto the island." He pulled out a set of binoculars and tossed them to Dixie. "Go ahead; watch as the melon glides through the air, safe as anything!" He gave Onix the go-ahead, and with a mighty whip of its tail, the large mass of fruit went flying.  
  
Dixie had a little trouble tracking the melon at first, but managed to get a bead on it pretty quickly. At first, it was just as Brock had said. She began describing the melon's arc to her friends, who were binocularless. "Okay, the melon's flyin'...It's headin' towards the fortress...Starting to dip a little bit..."   
  
Her voice took on a bleak tone as she saw the watermelon's unavoidable target. "It's heading for one of those props...Okay, it just hit the prop...Melon's flying everywhere..." she described with a totally neutral tone, not sure whether to laugh out loud or simply be thankful that she was not a melon. "Now the pieces are falling...still falling..." the binos dipped in her grasp as she followed the remnants down all the way to the ground. "Okay, they're down." She lowered the binos to see Misty looking pointedly at Brock.  
  
He simply scratched his head, exchanging a glance with Onix. "Okay," he rubbed his hands together briskly, "Any questions?"  
  
"Just one." Dixie tossed him his binos back. "Where on earth did you get that watermelon from?"  
  
Misty suddenly smacked herself on the forehead, startling Brock, Dixie, and Onix. "Oh my God, I must be an idiot!" She reached into her own pack and pulled out Ash's Pokébelt, strapping it around her own waist. "I completely forgot."  
  
"What?" Dixie tilted her head in confusion. "To rescue Ash, we have to...dress like him?"  
  
"No!" Misty rolled her eyes, exasperated. She plucked one of the balls off of Ash's leather belt and expanded it to its full softball-like size with a flick of her thumb. Then, holding down the control until the release catch activated, she tossed the ball out in front of her. With a flair of white that poured out of the splitting device, Misty released Ash's Articuno. The gigantic titan coagulated back into matter, fluttering its wings and adjusting to its new surroundings with only minor squawking.  
  
Brock stared at the seven foot tall bird for a moment, then simply said, "Well, of course, 'I' could have thought of that...I just..." he struggled, "I thought maybe you both were kind of tired of flying."  
  
"If flying's not good enough for you," Misty intoned smugly, pulling Fearow's and Charizard's balls off of the belt and expanding them to full size, "You can try it your way, Melon-Head."  
  
He coughed, pulling out his own ball and recalling Onix with a flick of the wrist. "No, I think I'll tough it out with you guys..." he explained innocently.  
  
"Glad to hear it." it was impossible not to catch the wry amusement in Misty's voice.  
* * *  
  
"So..." Lawrence flashed Ash an arrogant grin, standing next to Ho-Oh's containment cage. He was leaning on it, as if the device wasn't just barely holding one of the most powerful forces on the entire planet at bay...which it was. It was Ho-Oh, for God's sake. Ho-Oh! "What do you think?"  
  
Outwardly, Ash tried to appear nonchalant, or even casual. Inside, though, his heart had frozen with terror. He could hardly believe his ears. "Sorry, what? I kind of got bored there when your mouth started to do that flapping thing..."  
  
"You mean talking?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the thing." Ash tried desperately to keep the shaking fear out of his voice. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or not, but Lawrence didn't seem to notice either way. The smug nemesis simply kept smiling. 'Why shouldn't he?' Ash thought, despite his own best efforts not to give the collector any credit, 'He had captured Ho-Oh.'  
  
It was Ho-Oh, for God's sake!  
  
"Well then," Lawrence began to slowly pace the distance between them, walking towards Ash with decisive, unhurried steps. Each step echoed off of the deck plating. Step. Step. Step. It was maddening, almost excruciating, to listen to it. "Let me explain it once more, shall I?" He glanced back at Ho-Oh for a moment, which only made his smile grow even larger. "The two beings you know to be Ho-Oh and Lugia are not beings at all. Rather, they are one united, harmonious entity."  
  
"For one being," Ash quipped, "There sure are a lot of him."  
  
"Ah!" The older man clapped his hands together excitedly, "Therein lies the problem! Once, many millennia ago, they *were* one being. However, they were split apart during a colossal battle, one the likes of which the world hasn't seen for countless generations." His eyes danced with a light that Ash had never seen before. It was frightening...almost like looking into the living flames of a soul, or a broken lava lamp. As near as Ash could figure, it was a twinkle of madness that he saw in Lawrence's eyes. "Lugia received one-half of the being's power, and inherited the rationalization of the beast; the thought, the logic...the brain."  
  
"And what about Ho-Oh? Did he get the liver?"  
  
The odd comment didn't seem to slow Lawrence for a moment. "Ho-Oh is the physical manifestation of the passion, of the heart and soul." He stopped, placing his head mere inches from Ash's face. "That is what makes him so completely feral. Why, if I were to release him right now, he would probably go mad and destroy everything, all my efforts."  
  
"Gee, we wouldn't want that." Ash drawled with all the sarcasm he could muster.  
  
Lawrence waggled a finger in his face, which Ash was tempted to bite clean off the man's hand. He managed to restrain himself, though. "No. However," he continued, turning his back on Ash, "In order to unite the two once more, I will need to possess an artifact. One that has thusfar proved to be elusive."  
  
"A twisty-tie?"  
  
"I grow weary of your insolent tongue, Mr. Ketchum." Lawrence spoke without turning to face Ash. "It would be most appreciated if you would refrain from speaking for just a few minutes longer, despite the love you hold for your own voice." Ash shut up, not wanting to risk the collector growing so angry as to stomp off without finishing his explanation...or worse. "As I was saying...an artifact; the Kei'Sahral...the Crystal of Bonding."  
  
"Kei'Sahral..." Ash rolled the words around in his mouth. Then he smirked. "That doesn't mean 'Crystal of Bonding'..."  
  
"Pray tell?" Lawrence's eyebrow raised with only slight interest.  
  
"Kei'Sahral means 'Crystal of Unity'..." he laughed, happy to have caught Lawrence flatfooted for once.  
  
"Really..." If Lawrence was flustered, he hid it remarkably well. "And when did you become an expert of ancient Pokémopolitese?"  
  
"I..." Ash's mouth snapped shut. Truth be told, he didn't know *how* he recognized the words...he hadn't even been aware that the crystal was Pokémopolitan. "I have a sort of passing interest in the stuff..." he mumbled weakly. "Anyway, what do you need me for?"  
  
"I would think that obvious." Lawrence turned for the door, clicking the hidden control on his wrist to retract Ho-Oh's cage. The sparkling cage of energy began to ascend into the ceiling once more, still holding the unconscious legend in its clutches. "After all, only the Chosen One can call forth the Guardian of the Sea."  
  
"In a Piloswine's eye, you lunatic!" Ash spat.  
  
"Then consider yourself to be in a rather large Piloswine's eye, Mr. Ketchum. It shouldn't be a stretch for you, being the irritant that you are." Lawrence was about to exit when a bright flash from outside the large bay windows caught his attention. The flash was followed by a terrific shaking sensation, as if the airship was a snow globe in the hands of an energetic three-year-old. "What was that?"  
  
"Looks like your 'eye' needs a checkup." Ash smirked, praying silently that it was Misty and the others out there causing the shaking. He couldn't bring himself to be mad with them, even if they had done exactly what he had told them not to do. Another bright flash erupted outside, and the ship shook even harder.  
  
Lawrence returned smirk with sneer, once again pressing his hidden control. "I will not check anything. My Mechémon will see to any unwanted interlopers."  
  
"Mechémon?"  
* * *  
  
Delta ran up the deck towards the cockpit, trying to keep himself upright amidst the shaking and sudden shifts. He threw the door open, furious at the change in plans. "What in blazes is going on here?" roared the assassin.  
  
"We've engaged the enemy." Jessie shot back quickly, too engrossed in the weapons' panel to say anything more. She was launching missiles at something large and indistinguishable ahead of them while James kept the Pidjet circling and juking.  
  
"What enemy?" Delta demanded. For a brief, fleeting moment he considered the possibility that Ketchum had found them before they had found him, and was doing a preemptive strike. Meowth put those fears to rest, though. The feline was clinging to one of the panels desperately, trying to keep upright and still hold his lunch down.  
  
"Dat flying island ting!" the cat screeched, managing to point a claw out the viewport.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Believe me," Meowth grunted, "It's bad news. We had a run-in with dat ting a few years back...nearly took the whiskers right off my face...and my face, too!"  
  
"We're Team Rocket!" Delta snarled, grabbing hold of a chair just in time to brace himself for another of James' wild maneuvers. "We plunder the world, not save it!"  
  
James, despite the weight of the moment, managed a sardonic chuckle. He was uncharacteristically focused and...well, not whiney. "Just hang on...I have a feeling that if that island is there, then Ash...er, our target," he corrected himself, "Will be on it."  
  
Delta perked up a bit at that. "In that case," he ordered, putting a hand on James' shoulder, "How close can you take us in to that thing?"  
  
"It depends on how much the defenses hassle us."  
  
"What defenses?"  
  
The sky suddenly lit up with bright flashes of laser fire. The shots were erupting from the pylons of the air fortress, launched from unseen turrets. Even worse, Delta could see that some sort of aircraft was being launched from a now-open bay...very small aircraft, and in droves. They began swarming out at unbelievable speed, lighting up the already-deadly sky with even more crossfire, making James work all that much harder.  
  
"Those defenses." Jessie answered, launching another string of missiles. Her shots were intercepted in mid-flight by several laser shots, taken out before they could do any damage. "Blast!"  
  
"You tried that already."  
  
"Shut up, James."  
  
"Just trying to keep the mood light." he bit down on his lip in concentration, trying desperately to keep the plane out of harm's way. It was getting to be nearly impossible with those tiny jets buzzing about like gnats.  
  
"Like I said, take us close." Delta ordered him. He opened the hatch, intending on heading back into the aft section again.  
  
"Why?" James grunted out the question as he kept the Pidjet juking.  
  
"We still have those emergency rocket packs in the back, don't' we?" Delta asked him. James understood in an instant, flashing the assassin a broad smile before turning his attention back to the fight. Though he didn't like to admit it, James was beginning to like the man.  
* * *  
  
Misty recalled the last of Ash's borrowed Pokémon into their capture spheres, reducing them and slapping them back onto the belt, which she then strapped around her own waist. She looked over to her friends, who had just made it inside with her. It was lucky for them that Charizard had been able to cut through the hull of Lawrence's fortress with a concentrated Flamethrower, and without setting off any alarms. A little good luck might be a nice change of pace...for once. "Everyone okay?"  
  
"Aces." Brock muttered. His attention was nowhere near on Misty; instead, the Rock trainer was looking around at the massive hanger they had cut into. The lights were off, but that didn't stop Brock from taking in the show. Everywhere he turned, there was something amazing to see; art, machinery, and priceless artifacts. "We must have cut straight into his collection."  
  
Dixie whistled appreciatively, running her finger over a statue that looked suspiciously like Michelangelo's David. "Y'all wasn't kidding about this guy. He's got it all."  
  
"I'll say." Brock agreed. He pointed, directing her attention over to a section of the wall filled from floor to ceiling with framed paintings. "Look, there's Da'Vinci's Mona Lisa."  
  
"And look next to it! That must be the first replacement copy they put in the museum after he stole the first one." she singled out the picture's exact replica. "Wonder why he stole both?"  
  
"He's pretty twisted like that." Misty growled. Despite her anger, though, she couldn't help but be impressed. Lawrence had spent a lifetime putting together his collection, a tapestry of the rarest and most beautiful things valued by man, and it really showed. Squinting through the darkened room, she thought she could spot the Spirit of St. Louis resting right next to Gutenburg's original printing press. "Really twisted." she added with a shiver.  
  
The floor beneath them suddenly took a wild shift on the horizontal plane, nearly throwing them off their collective feet. "Holy crap!" Dixie swore, "What'n blazes was that?"  
  
Brock took a chance and stuck his head out the hole they had cut into the hull, stealing a peek outside. He managed to jerk his head back in before a wild laser shot decapitated him at the neck.  
  
"What'd you see?" Misty asked him, wringing her hands. She wasn't sure if they could handle anything more. Wasn't rescuing Ash from the clutches of Lawrence III enough? "What was it?"  
  
"Trouble." Brock's voice was shaking. His heart was still pounding with the adrenaline rush that came with nearly being killed. "Big trouble. There's some kind of firefight out there...I don't know who it is-"  
  
"Whoever they are, they're giving us a nice distraction." Misty stated firmly. "It's about time some trouble came along and helped us out for a change."  
  
"Uh..." Dixie had gone a few paces ahead of them, searching for a door. Instead, she found something a bit different. "I think we're about to come into more trouble..."  
  
"What is it?" Misty and Brock turned, not knowing what Dixie was talking about and dreading what it was that made her voice shiver and quake the way it did.  
  
Dixie backed up slowly, shaking as she reached for a Pokéball. She wasn't sure what it was that had come for them, but whatever it was, it was big, big enough to make the deck shake. Even through the turmoil from the battle outside, she could feel the monster's steps trouncing the deck plating, making it creak. Her gaze traveled up to meet the new trouble...and kept on traveling. Finally, she made out a pair of crimson eyes piercing the darkness.   
  
"Big trouble..." Dixie whispered.  
  
A minute later, it was all over.  
* * *  
  
"As you can see," Lawrence gestured to the battle being waged outside his massive palace in the sky, "My Mechémon are infinitely superior to any and all Pokémon. They have all of their strengths, but none of the inherent, *organic* weaknesses."  
  
Though he would never say it out loud, the metal combatants that Lawrence had developed profoundly impressed Ash. Having gone head-to-mechanical-head with them, he knew firsthand how fast and efficient they were. "So you made a few wind-up toys. Good for you." Ash yawned loudly. "Ho hum. If I had wanted to see action figures, I would have gone to Toys 4 U."  
  
"Mr. Ketchum," Lawrence's voice betrayed only the slightest hint of his annoyance, "You have gone out of your way to be as rude and obnoxious as possible since your arrival. I have been nothing if not a hospitable and polite host-"  
  
"Yeah, you even gave me the best seat in the house." Ash quipped, tugging on his bonds. "What a peach, huh, Pikachu?" It broke Ash's heart to see Pikachu and Pidgeot trapped inside Lawrence's rings, helpless and unconscious as they were. He would make Lawrence pay when he got out...if he ever did. "Look, are we just going to talk all night, or are you going to show me more of your remote control planes?"  
  
Lawrence smiled at this. He checked the small control apparatus mounted on his wrist, nodding in approval. "Ah, the Sky Sentinels are not my only form of Mechémon, Mr. Ketchum. In fact, I believe that another of my mechanical creations is chauffeuring several of your acquaintances here as we speak."  
  
"Acquainta-what?" Surely Lawrence was lying. Who did he know that could possibly be on the fortress with him? Unless... "Oh no. No, they didn't."  
  
The doors opened, revealing to Ash the disturbing fact that they *had*.  
  
It was another robot...a very, very big robot. The Mechémon appeared to stand about ten feet tall from where Ash was trapped, gleaming all the way from his stainless steel feet to his oblong-shaped head. Most of him was simply armor plating, and not exposed wiring and components like the robots Ash had frequently seen in cartoons and movies. Each of its four arms, though, sported a nasty looking cannon mounted above the wrist for easy aiming and even easier destruction. Three of those four arms were helpless at the moment; each one contained the struggling, restrained form of one of Ash's closest friends.  
  
"Hi Ash!" Brock called out to his friend, grimacing in pain as the robot squeezed him a bit harder than necessary. "Funny meeting up with you here..."  
  
Ash was furious. "I seem to recall telling you guys to WAIT for me!" he yelled, his face growing red with anger. "I can't believe you three got yourselves captured!"  
  
"Look who's talking, Bigmouth!" Misty shot back, trying to wriggle free of the mechanoid's deadly hug.  
  
"Misty, will you just shut up for once in your life?" Ash shot back.  
  
"You shut up!"  
  
"I said SHUT UP Carrot Top!"  
  
"And I said YOU SHUT UP, Hat Head!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Why don't you make me?"  
  
"Keep it up and I will, Scrawny!"  
  
"Scrawny!? If you were standing right here, I'd knock you right on your-"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Lawrence's voice rose above Ash and Misty's quarreling, cutting them off. "If you two are done flirting?" This got even louder cries of protest from the two, which he silenced with a gesture of his hand. "Now, if you would be so kind as to cease the useless noise?" They opted for quiet this time. "Thank you." He turned back to Ash, indicating the large Mechémon that held his friends captive. "As you can see, Mr. Ketchum, my Mechémon come in terrestrial form as well as aerial form. This is Archimedes, one of my superior models."  
  
"Let...them...go." Ash growled.  
  
"I think not." He shook his head, waggling a finger at Ash before strolling over to Archimedes, giving each of the new prisoners a small, curious inspection. "No. Instead, I believe I shall use them to my advantage. After all, you do care about your friends very deeply, do you not?"  
  
"I said, let them GO!" Ash was thrashing against his bonds now, trying desperately to break free. If there had been any way possible to strike Lawrence dead at that very moment, Ash had no doubt whatsoever that he wouldn't have hesitated for even an instant.  
  
Lawrence stopped his inspection with Misty, absently fingering her long, luxurious orange-red hair. She had let it grow out over the past year, letting it run a bit wilder. It wasn't the least bit unbecoming. Naturally, she still kept a braided lock hanging down near her temple, right where her old ponytail used to jut out of the side of her head. Lawrence took this, tugging on it gently. He was rewarded with a feral growl from the back of Misty's throat. "This one...she is your lady friend, if memory serves. Is she not?" He turned back to Ash, Misty's braid still intertwined between his fingers.  
  
"I'm NOT his GIRLFRIEND!" Misty wailed, but only half-heartedly. The truth was, she was battling a trio of emotions at the moment; one was extreme fear for her own life, and another was the growing urge to beat the tar out of Lawrence with her bare hands and booted feet. The third, the one she wouldn't even admit to herself, was a strange fear of never telling Ash before she died. 'Tell him what?' she wondered, even as Lawrence molested her hair with that disgusting grin on his face.  
  
"Leave them out of this, Lawrence." Ash tried desperately to reason with the madman. Fear and anguish was flowing into his tone like a waterfall, his heart surging with emotion. "Please...don't kill them. They're my friends."  
  
"Ah yes...Poor Mr. Ketchum." Lawrence laughed. He stroked Misty's cheek, only pulling his hand away after she tried to bite his finger clean off. "It's a rather common complex, actually; you lost your father when you were young." He laughed as Ash's face grew twisted with rage, the young trainer's amber eyes seething and burning. "And so, because your own family was broken, you sought to make a new family for yourself. A surrogate sister or two," he patted Misty and Dixie on the head, "A surrogate brother," he acknowledged Brock. "Even your Pokémon." He regarded Pikachu and Pidgeot, floating in their containment fields. "I wonder how far you would go to save them?"  
  
"Let them go, you monster!" Ash roared.  
  
"No." Lawrence turned to Archimedes, looking the robot square in its blood red optical sensors. "Archimedes, kill them. Kill them all. Start with that one." he pointed to Misty.  
  
"NO!"  
* * *  
End  
  
-Quiet Hindsight-  
I didn't intend for this one to have a cliffhanger...but it does. Funny how that works, isn't it? Ha ha ha...anyway, I should have things more or less back to normal in the next fic (normal as things get for Ash, anyway). Stay tuned!  
  
Next: BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
03- Surf 


	3. Surf

=Author's Note=  
Greetings, readers! I'm sorry about the lateness of this publication, but things have been getting interesting for me on a personal level. However late, though, here it is, the third installment of the Hidden Machine Saga. I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy!  
  
=Legal Disclaimer=  
I'm beginning to run out of creative ways of saying it, so for this story, I'll just flat-out give it to you. I don't own Pokémon. I don't own Ash, or Misty, or Brock. Dixie's mine, but I'll loan her out to anyone who asks nicely. I don't own that cramma-flamm'n Island, or any of those cute, dangerously bizarre creatures that spit fire and water and poison, among other things. I don't write for money, which works out well, because no one pays me for it.  
  
BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
03- Surf  
  
Alfred Giovanni waited patiently in his office, sipping slowly on a cup of black coffee. It had been a fairly slow day today, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. A slow day, of course, never meant that it was not a busy day. There were always reports to sign, projects to check up on, and the occasional disloyal underling to execute in a manner so gruesome as to dissuade his other peons from even thinking such traitorous thoughts. There were a few projects, however, that held particular interest to him, projects that hadn't given him a report in quite a while. Project Chronos was particularly behind in its updates, but that was to be expected. He preferred that his scientists be careful when trying to locate the single most powerful artifact in the planet's history.  
  
A lone figure entered his office without warning, signaling that it was time for the other priority-one project's report to commence. Despite his silent footfalls and fluid, eerie movement, Giovanni had known of his arrival for the past five minutes. It was as it should be; after all, if someone could enter his office without his permission and make it through the doorway alive, what kind of headmaster of Team Rocket would he be?  
  
The man walked silently up to the desk, standing at parade rest until he was called upon to speak. He had dusty brown hair, and eyes to match. His entire face was plain and unassuming. Depending on his expression, he could be seen as just another face in the crowd, or even the boy next door. It was the face of a true assassin, one that could fit in everywhere, but didn't really fit in anywhere. His build matched his face well; strong, but not beefy, well toned beneath his midnight black bodysuit.  
  
Giovanni let the assassin stand there for a few moments, pretending to go over some report on his monitor. He was satisfied to see that the man didn't flinch or shift uncomfortably. Finally, Giovanni spoke. "Report." was all that he said. It was all he ever said whenever the man came in with new business. It was all that was needed.  
  
"I have an update on Omega Red's status," the assassin spoke crisply and quickly. He, like any other member of Team Rocket, knew the price paid for wasting their leader's time. "As well as the Ketchum situation."  
  
"Well?"  
  
Omega, leader of Giovanni's elite assassins, the Omega Red, wasn't a man who was prone to embarrassment or shame. However, he felt both of them now as he updated his commander. "I'm afraid that Delta is having even less luck than Alpha had in the matter, sir." Though he remained completely impassive on the surface, he burned with humiliation on the inside. Alpha, the unbeatable ninja assassin, had gone after the boy four months ago in the forests of Maine. After giving chase, the mission had ended when the Ketchum boy had dropped a rather large tree on his youngest agent.  
  
"I see." Alfred Giovanni's eyebrow shot up as his finger began rapping against the ebony desktop. Red began seeping up from his collar and into his face, betraying his anger. His voice, however, never rose or changed, but remained the same even tone as it had before. "I assume you are correcting the situation."  
  
"Yes sir." Omega nodded once. "I've ordered Tau to move in and assist Delta." A small smile passed over his lips before he quickly squashed it, regaining his composure. "We should see results in a few hours, sir."  
  
"Excellent." The red disappeared from Giovanni's face as he leaned back in his office chair, feeling more at ease with the mission. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. "Speaking of which, Omega; exactly what 'did' happen to Delta?"  
* * *  
  
Delta tiptoed through the halls of the immense airship, now free of the cumbersome jetpack that had gotten him into the bay via a short but exceedingly dangerous flight straight through the aerial firefight. The assassin was unable to contain his admiration for Lawrence's fortress. Just from the fraction of the construct he had seen so far, it had already proven to be years ahead of anything Team Rocket had. Despite Giovanni's immense resources and hundreds of scientists in his employ, he had never developed anything so advanced...anything that hadn't backfired, at any rate. Every now and then, the station would rock ever so slightly, tilting one way or another. Despite the fact that they were several miles up, it reassured him, letting him know that his three agents were still out there, waging war with the fortress's automated defenses.  
  
"NO!"  
  
The cry of anguish caught his attention, emanating from one of the open doors down the corridor ahead. Seeing and hearing no one around, Delta quickened his pace, bringing him to the door in a matter of seconds. With caution bred from years of sneaking, shooting, and being shot at, he stuck just enough of his head around. What he saw nearly caused him to cry out, which surely would have meant death.  
  
"Archimedes, hold." Lawrence told his massive, multi-limbed robot. As ordered, Archimedes froze in position. Held within three of his four stainless steel arms were captives of some kind. Delta couldn't recognize them from his rear angle.   
  
Beyond both Lawrence and his mechanical monster was a small table, positioned upright, with rough leather straps on each corner to hold captives of its own. Currently, its prisoner was a young boy of sixteen or so, with jet-black hair, a heavy black Silph Co. jacket, and an old official Indigo League Cap from a half-decade ago. He strained against the bonds to no avail, glaring at Lawrence with unmatched hatred pouring from his amber brown eyes.  
* * *  
  
"Now, Mr. Ketchum, you know that I am a very busy man." Lawrence explained affably, taking a few steps in Ash's direction as he did so. "In addition, I abhor violence. However, I can and will use it when needed. Now," he stopped two feet in front of his captive with an infuriating smile on his face. "I require a service of you. I have your friends in my possession. Perform my task, and I will release them." He shrugged, something he was unaccustomed to doing. "It is that simple."  
  
"Go sit under a Snorlax, you twisted psycho." Ash snarled, trying to spit on Lawrence. The spittle fell short and landed on the deck in front of his captor, which only made Ash angrier.  
  
"I had something else in mind." He turned, clapping his hands. "Archimedes, crush the redheaded one...slowly. I want to hear the life drain out of her."   
  
Archimedes complied, and began to put the squeeze on Misty. Her face grew as red as her hair as the gigantic robot began to draw its arm in against its torso, with the Mistress of Water caught in the middle. She gritted her teeth together as her ribs began to collapse inward on her delicate organs, creaking and straining. "Ahh!" She cried out, hating herself for her own human weakness. Her cries soon grew louder and more frequent as the pain doubled and re-doubled.  
  
Ash closed his eyes, unable to watch. It was the worst torture of all, the worst pain that Ash could ever try to endure. Physical punishment was nothing new to him, but he couldn't bear to have any of his friends suffer for his mistakes. "All right! All right!" he screamed, lashing his head back and forth. "I'll do it!"  
  
"Archimedes, stop." Archimedes froze once more, but did not release his pressure hold on Misty. She hung there limply, half-crushed and whimpering, tears squeezing out of her closed eyelids. Lawrence studied Ash's face carefully, rubbing his angular chin in thought. "You're certain?" he asked him.  
  
"YES," Ash shouted into Lawrence's face, "But for the love of God, LET HER GO! You're KILLING her!" Even the great aerial battle being waged outside seemed insignificant compared to Misty's safety...to all their safety.  
  
"Excellent!" a triumphant smile blossomed on Lawrence's features as he turned to instruct his Mechémon. "Archimedes, release them, but do not let them move. If they attempt any cheap heroics, kill them." The robot complied, dumping Brock, Misty, and Dixie unceremoniously onto the ground.   
  
Brock immediately rushed to Misty's side, helping the coughing, moaning girl to her feet. "Are you okay?" he whispered to her.  
  
She nodded slowly, methodically checking each of her bones to see if any of them were broken. Her entire body ached, but nothing seemed to be too serious. "I will be." She immediately began glaring at Lawrence. "As soon as I strangle him until he's dead, dead, dead!"  
  
"I'll second that." Dixie snarled, her southern drawl filled with uncharacteristic anger. The Southern Belle very nearly took a step towards the pampered villain, but remembered the armored, armed automaton at their backs, and wisely kept her place.  
  
"Now..." Lawrence began, but Ash interrupted him.  
  
"Hold it." Ash's eyes fixed on a pair of Lawrence's patented containment fields, which held two of his Pokémon trapped within the webs of pure energy. "I want you to let them *all* go. That includes Pikachu and Pidgeot."  
  
Lawrence sighed heavily, as if Ash's demands were nothing more than a terrible inconvenience. "Very well." The older man snapped his fingers casually, without even turning around. Immediately, the two fields blinked out of existence, letting the tiny yellow thundermouse and its feathery companion fall to the floor in a heap. Slowly, the two pocket monsters came around, blinking heavily as if waking from a deep, long sleep.  
  
"Pika?" Pikachu searched its new surroundings dizzily, trying to make sense of what had happened. Suddenly, its tiny black eyes fell upon Ash, who was strapped to the examination table and held upright only a meter from Lawrence's position. "Pikachu!" The electric mouse snarled, and leapt forward, intent on tearing out the man's throat with its own teeth.  
  
"Pikachu, stop!" Ash's words cut through its battle-lusted brain, bringing it to a screeching halt. "Stop." Ash said again, this time more gently. "Everything's all right. I'm fine." He sighed, letting his head drop in defeat. "I want you to go over with Misty and the others. You too, Pidgeot."  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu began to protest, but Ash cut his Pokémon's cries short with a glance. "Pi..." Slowly, never taking its eyes off of Ash and Lawrence, Pikachu shuffled over to stand at Brock's side. Pidgeot soon followed, hopping over there on its long, sharp talons.  
  
"Are you quite done, Mr. Ketchum?"  
Ash smirked, despite the tense situation. "Aren't you forgetting something?" When Lawrence gave him a questioning look, he explained, "The original deal was that you would give us the HM if I came. Cough it up."  
  
"You failed to come alone."  
  
"On the contrary," Ash objected, "I came alone, just like you asked. My 'friends' got here after I did." he gave his companions an annoyed glance, still sorry that they were mixed up in all of this. "Besides, what do you need with it? It's useless to you without the Accelerator. Now give it to Dixie."  
  
"As you wish." He stepped slowly towards the trio of would-be rescuers, each of his steps ringing out against the cold metal deck. As he drew closer, he reached into his heavy, full-length jacket. Dixie flinched inwardly, wondering if he was going to draw a gun and go back on his promise to let them live. In the end, though, it was a small chip that he drew from the cloth, and not a firearm. The handsome rogue took Dixie's hand and gently pressed the HM into her palm. "Here it is. The Hidden Machine chip for the technique of flight, as promised."  
  
"This is the 'Fly' chip?" Dixie examined the small piece of plastic and metal, turning it over in her hands. It was beautiful, just as the first HM had been. Of course, when you hold the last gift your grandfather had ever left to you, anything might appear beautiful.  
  
"Now get going, guys." Ash ordered them. "I want you out of here, now."   
  
"Actually," Lawrence halted them with a gesture, "I'd rather you stayed. After all, it is a long trip back to the Orange Islands, and I would appreciate the company...as well as the leverage over our young friend here." he added with a smirk.  
  
"Orange Islands?" Brock clutched the wounded Misty to his chest, scowling at Lawrence III with confusion. "I don't understand. What is it that you need Ash for in the Orange Islands?"  
  
The Collector raised an eyebrow at the teen's inquiry. "Didn't I mention? Mr. Ketchum and I are about to embark on a quest." His eyes sparkled with the glimmer of insanity.  
  
"We are going to capture Lugia himself."  
* * *  
  
Delta leveled his gun slowly, half-hidden by the edge of the hatch. With practiced ease, he aimed the barrel of his nine-millimeter pistol. His finger passed over the inscription in the side of the barrel, nearly worn down to the point of illegibility. 'Rose'...Someday he would find out whose name it was on the barrel of his gun. Maybe it was someone from his own past. Try as he might, he couldn't remember anything before he joined Team Rocket.  
  
"Focus." he murmured to himself, re-adjusting his aim and banishing any stray thoughts. With a simple squeeze of the trigger, Ash Ketchum's brains would be splattered halfway across the room, and his mission would be complete. Yet something caused him to hesitate for a moment. He had heard Lawrence's insane proclamation, and had initially brushed it aside as a madman's dream. The boy's reaction to it, as well as his friends' reactions, though, seemed as if the world was coming to an end. Thinking back, Delta could remember an incident in the Orange Islands a few years ago, one that involved the Legendary Bird in question.  
  
'Never mind that.' a voice in his head told him sternly, 'All that matters is killing the kid and getting out while you're still alive.'   
  
He took a deep breath, focusing in on the middle of Ash's forehead. Already, he could see the carnage in his mind's eye; the boy's head snapping back, a fountain of blood pouring from the bullet's entry point as the room erupted in horrified shrieks and screams. The whole scene played over and over again in Delta's mind, moving in slow motion.  
  
"I'll find a way to stop you, Collector." Ash vowed to the twisted madman, even as he lay strapped upright to the table, closer to death than he would ever realize. "You won't win."  
  
Lawrence merely smiled. "Bold words, Mr. Ketchum. And I think that it is very cute that you believe them."  
  
Still holding his breath, Delta re-adjusted his aim again. He knew what he had to do, even though he wouldn't like it one bit. "Four shots ought to be enough..." He mentally placed the first shot, readying his pistol.  
  
Exhale...  
  
And squeeze...  
* * *  
  
"Computer, set course for the O-"  
  
BAM!  
PING!  
  
Lawrence began to dictate to his navigational systems, but stopped short as a small clap of thunder erupted in the large room, pounding in his ears for a split second. His head whirled around to face his other captives, immediately looking to Pikachu with suspicion. The small Pokémon hadn't even moved, though, and was searching the room in confusion, as were the rest of his human and Pokémon friends.  
  
BAM!  
PING!  
  
The sound rang out again. Helplessly, Lawrence spun in place, trying to figure out what was happening. He was a man who was accustomed to being in control, no matter the situation. Unknown sounds of such magnitude in his own fortress was something he wouldn't tolerate in the least. His sweeping gaze eventually brought him back to Ash...  
  
Ash...  
  
His hands were free...  
  
"What?" Lawrence roared, even as a third thunderclap rang out. Right before his eyes, an invisible assailant shattered the clasp around Ash's right leg, reducing it to metallic splinters and freeing the boy's ankle. Though confused, Ash remained absolutely still. He wasn't sure who or what was behind this, but he wasn't about to complain. As he expected, another shot rang out, and the last of his manacles exploded in a hail of shrapnel, slicing through his jeans and cutting into his leg. He winced in pain, but jumped down from the table nonetheless, running for his friends.  
  
"Let's get out of here!" he shouted to them.  
  
Lawrence shook with fury, chasing after Ash. His heavy jacket shimmered and swayed about him as he bellowed, "Archimedes, STOP THEM!" His robot bent down in response, reaching out to gather up the three intruders back into his monstrous arms, when a fifth shot caught him in the back of his metallic skull. Sparks began shooting from his twin red ocular scanners as his head began emitting small flashes of light. The children beneath him scattered just in time as, with a slow, ominous creaking, the titanium titan toppled over, landing with a fantastic crash against the steel deck.  
  
Ash didn't bother to even slow down, clamping down on Dixie's arm as he passed them at full sprint, nearly yanking the poor girl off of her feet as he led the way to the only exit in the room. Brock was quick to follow, carrying Misty in his arms. Both Pidgeot and Pikachu brought up the rear, squawking and squealing as they scampered after their trainer.  
  
The group rounded the corner at full steam, skidding so hard they all nearly crashed into the wall. Ash, being the one in front, was lucky enough to be the first to stare down Delta's gunpoint. He dug his heels into the ground and came to a screeching halt in front of the armed assassin. Without thinking, Ash placed himself between the gunpoint and Dixie, glaring defiantly at Delta. The agent of Omega Red remained statue-like, keeping the gun pointed straight at Ash's heart, his face a mask of stoic silence.  
  
The stare-down continued for a handful of seconds longer. Delta was the first to move, holstering his gun and half-turning, motioning down the corridor he had come from. "This way. I have a plane waiting...I hope."  
  
Ash raised an eyebrow, not budging an inch. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Shut up and run." Delta broke off, sprinting down the hall and moving out of sight around the corridor's curve. Muttering a curse, Ash once again took off running, still yanking Dixie along.  
  
"Don't tell me," Dixie huffed, trying to keep up, "That y'all trust that guy."  
  
"Not even as far as I can throw him." Ash answered back between gulping gasps, "But what other choice do we have?" He twisted around, looking further back. "Brock, is she all right?"  
  
"She," Misty snarled angrily, hanging on tightly to Brock's neck as the Rock Master barreled down the hallway with her in his arms, "Is just fine, thank you. Although I'd be a lot better if Brock would let me run on my own."  
  
"You heard her." Brock quipped, gripping her tighter against his chest. He couldn't afford to drop her, for more reasons than one.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, they caught up to Delta inside some sort of large, open bay. Inside, Ash was horrified to find rows and rows of flying Mechémon, the same kind that had brought himself, Pikachu, and Pidgeot into Lawrence's clutches. "There must be a million of these things in here!"  
  
"And there are another million out there," Delta barked, pulling a radio off of his belt and extending the antenna. "Jessie, do you read me?"  
  
*Delta?* A high-pitched, strong Brooklyn voice squawked back, thick with static. Delta could hear screaming in the background, drowned out occasionally by explosions. *Is dat you?*  
  
"Meowth." Delta breathed in relief, glad to know that his team in the air hadn't been blown out of the sky just yet. "Meowth, tell James to swing around and pick us up at the bay you dropped me off at."  
* * *  
  
Meowth sweated nervously, clinging to the edges of the communication console with his jagged claws as their assault carrier shifted beneath his wobbly long feet. The Pidgeot painted plane they had procured was state-of-the-art Team Rocket technology, but even it was having a hard time keeping up under the Collector's barrage. He looked over at James, who was coated with a thin sheen of sweat as he jerked the craft every which way, trying to avoid the crimson bolts of death that seemed to come at them from all directions. Jessie sat in the co-pilot's seat, operating their jet's sophisticated weaponry as best as she could.   
  
"He wants us to pick him up?" James grunted, hauling up on the stick. Their Pidjet soared higher, barely avoiding the lancing lasers as they skimmed the bottom of their hull, scorching the Pidgeot paint job. "Is he crazy? A few more direct hits, and there won't be anything left to pick him up in!"  
  
Meowth shook his head, turning back to the radio equipment. "Sorry, Mista Delta, that's a no-go on pick-up. Jimmy Boy says that if we tried to land dis ting, we'd be toasted!"  
  
*Meowth,* Delta's angry voice came back over the frequency, *I have several...er...hostages here, and we're running out of time. We need an evac, and we need it now!*  
  
"Wha'dya want me ta do?" Meowth shouted back, straining to be heard as one of Jessie's shots turned a Mechémon into an expanding ball of fire and scrap, "Use the transploders and beam you over here? Dis ain't Sev Trek, and my name ain't Squatty!"  
* * *  
  
"Blast!" Delta vented, slamming the transceiver into an open palm.  
  
Misty broke from Brock's grasp as he lowered her gently to her feet, insisting that she was fine and calmly telling him that she would pound the living bejesus out of him if he didn't let her go. "What is it?" she asked the assassin, limping over and clutching her ribs. Ash remembered his own aching ribs from his crash on Pidgeot the day before, which felt as if they were on fire after all the jostling he had put them through in the last hour or so. "What's wrong?"  
  
Delta glanced over at her with a furious scowl pressed on his strong features. "They can't land the jet, there's too much flak out there." A low growl rumbled from the back of his throat as he stared out the open port at the battle beyond. It was like a laser light show, but much more beautiful, and far more deadly. "Looks like we're finished."  
  
Brock appeared thoughtful, examining both the battle and the gaping hatch of the landing bay. "Does this jet of yours have any sort of VTOL capabilities?" he inquired, a plan already starting to form in his head.  
  
The assassin gave him a questioning look, but then began to understand. A smile slowly blossomed on his face as he raised the radio to his mouth once more. "You know, I think it does. I like you, kid...you have guts." Brock blushed at the praise, even if it had come from a man who had been trying to kill them all for the past two or three days.  
  
"Vee-toll?" Ash scratched his head, confused. "Isn't that what a president uses to say no to different bills?"  
  
"VTOL: Vertical Take-Off and Landing." Delta snapped, flipping on the radio."  
  
"Oh...I knew that." He winced as Misty jabbed her elbow into his ribs, giving him an annoyed look. "Hey!"  
  
"Meowth!" Delta yelled into the comm, "Tell James to start making his way towards the landing bay, now!"  
  
*I told ya!* the tough tabby's voice answered, *We can't land dis boid!*  
  
"You're not going to." Delta exchanged smiles with Brock for a moment before continuing, "I want you to slow down once you get into the bay, and cut in the jet's repulsor rockets. Got it?"  
  
*Dat's suicide!*  
  
"It'll have to be a suicide we can survive. Just do it!" With that, he snapped the antenna down, jamming the radio back onto his belt. On the surface, he seethed and fumed, silently raging against this new and radically powerful foe that had come into his life not more than a half-hour ago. Underneath, though, he was as frightened as the teenagers surrounding him were. Somehow, he managed to hide his fear beneath a veil of anger, through years of practice and tragedy. "Come on..." he silently urged the Pidjet, "Come on, blast you!"  
  
Finally, he saw a glimmer through the raging sea of flashes and explosions, a small spark that shot towards their open bay like a bullet from the muzzle of a gun. A heartbeat later, Team Rocket's assault craft came screaming into the landing bay. James, being the adequate pilot that he was, managed to fire the retro-rockets and activate the VTOL before the plane smashed into the cold metal frame of the fortress. With a soft click and a whirring that was barely heard above the din of the battle, a short, stumpy ramp extended from the back of the plane and halted just before it hit the deck.  
  
"Get on!" Delta yelled, gathering the kids in front of him and shoving them towards the ramp. They stumbled as one, clamoring up the slick metal surface and clawing their way into the threshold of the plane. Delta himself was about to follow when a laser bolt struck the ramp, leaving a slagged, carbonized crater where his foot would have been in a moment. With a sinking feeling, he turned around and found himself facing a small hoard of Lawrence's flying Mechémon. The midnight black demons had been deactivated when the escapees had first arrived in the bay, but now appeared fully awake and had found a target.  
  
"Delta!" Ash yelled, foolishly rushing back down the ramp. Misty chased after him, crying out his name. "Pikachu, use Thunderwave!" he ordered.  
  
Pikachu leapt at the villainous robots, unleashing a golden pulse of energy that shot out in every direction. The flash of power shorted out the Mechémon, playing havoc with their internal circuitry and melting their components like so much butter under a hot knife.   
  
Unfortunately, the pulse also struck the Pidjet squarely in its metallic hindquarters. With no operating circuit boards to control it, the plane's VTOL cut out. And with no VTOL to hold it in the air, the Pidjet fell to the deck with a titanic, thunderous bang. The fierce jarring knocked Ash, Misty, and Dixie off of the ramp, leaving only Brock at his place inside of the plane's rear.  
  
"Bad move, kid!" Delta yelled, but was cut off by another roar.   
  
Horrified, he shielded his eyes as the Pidjet's main thrusters suddenly cut in, blasting them with a wave of heat and light. Before their watering eyes, the plane roared out of the bay, leaving a trail of sparks as its hull scraped against the deck.  
  
"Where are they going?" Dixie shrieked, pulling herself up off of the deck and staring longingly at the jet as it sailed off into the night sky. "What are they doing?"  
  
"I don't know, but we have to get out of here..."  
  
Ash immediately knew what to do. "Pidgeot." he called over his large, fluttering bird. It hopped over obediently, claws clicking and scraping against the deck. "Pal, I need you to carry the girls. I know it's a lot, but it's important they make it." His Pidgeot nodded, and took off into the air.  
  
"Who died and made you Eisenhower?" Dixie put her hands on her hips, scowling at Ash. "Besides, what about you? How will you-"  
  
All around them, the bat-like Mechémon were beginning to activate, slowly being lowered from their hanging racks. "We don't have time to argue! Pikachu, stick with them." He picked up his Pika-partner and brought it up to his face. "Make sure they're okay. I'm counting on you. You got it?"  
  
"Pika!"  
  
"That's my guy." He tossed Pikachu to Misty, who was barely quick enough to catch the Pokémon. "Now, Pidgeot! Take off!" With a shrill cry in response, Pidgeot swooped down and snatched each of the girls, wrapping a long, sharp set of talons carefully around their waists. With a strong gust from its wings, the enormous bird wobbled into the air.  
  
"Wait!" Misty cried out, but it was too late. With one final cry, Pidgeot disappeared over the edge of the deck and began its barely controlled descent. Ash stared longingly after the two girls and his Pokémon, his heart sinking as he realized that he would probably never see either of them again.  
  
"Our turn, Ketchum." Delta told him, shouting to be heard over the roaring engines and blazing cannons. He grabbed Ash by the arm and began to run for the edge, just as Pidgeot had with its passengers. His muscles ached, and he had the distinct feeling that they wouldn't be getting better anytime soon, but nevertheless he knew what he had to do.  
  
Ash didn't fight Delta, but still didn't know whether or not to trust the assassin yet. "What are you doing?" he asked him as they reached the edge of the bay. Behind them, the newly activated Mechémon had become airborne and were heading in their direction, guns already aglow with power, ready to tear them into burning pieces of flesh and cloth.  
  
"This."  
  
It was déjà vu all over again, with the positions reversed, as Delta violently shoved Ash out of the bay and into the open air below. The second-to-last thought that passed through Ash's head as he began his free fall was the irony behind it all; just a few days ago, he had pushed Misty out of an airship not unlike this one in exactly the same manner. Apparently, it was his turn now.  
  
The last thought was pure, blinding terror as he saw the green landscape yawing below him, separated by two vertical miles of air...a space that was growing smaller very, very quickly.  
* * *  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Brock climbed into the Pidjet's cockpit, hanging onto the hatchway for dear life as the plane danced and jerked beneath his feet. His eyes fell on Jessie and James as they pounded at the smoking, flashing control console, trying their best to keep their craft aloft even as it was being hammered by Lawrence's furious barrage. "We have to go back and get them!"  
  
Meowth rolled his large, inhuman eyes, still clinging to the communications panel. "Of all da people to make it aboard, it had ta be you." His sarcasm cut short in a yelp when Brock grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up to the Rock Master's face level.  
  
"Listen up." Brock growled, gritting his teeth. Anger sparked in his narrow, slitted eyes like never before. It was a fearsome sight for Meowth as the cat dangled in the large man's grip, face to face with the fuming breeder. "My friends are still on that deathtrap. I'm not sure how, but I know that, somehow, all of this is your fault. Now turn this bucket around and get them."  
  
"You have to be crazy!" James grunted, trying to fly the plane and put out the fire on his control panel at the same time. "This thing isn't going to stay in the air for more than a minute or two. We turn around, and that time gets cut to zero."  
  
Jessie's head whipped around as she shot James a horrified glance. "You mean we're going to crash?"  
  
"That's exactly what I mean!" Even as he spoke, the nose of the plane began to dip downward, taking the plane lower and lower towards the Appalachian forests below. The engines whined, then began to cough and sputter pathetically. A moment later, they caught fire, spreading the blaze across half of the dying Pidjet as it sailed towards the ground. "Everyone assume crash positions!" James' voice reverberated in their eardrums above the death throes of their plane.  
  
"What's a crash position?" Meowth screamed back.  
  
"The position you want to be found dead in!" Jessie snapped, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling into a ball. James and Meowth did the same, leaving Brock seatless and hopeless as they careened out of control.  
  
"Looks like Team Rocket's crashing down again!"  
* * *  
  
"I'm really getting sick of this!"  
  
Misty could barely hear the Southern Belle's wails of indignation over the rushing of the wind past her ears, to say nothing of the furious, fear-driven pounding in her chest. Pidgeot, Ash's loyal, feathery friend, was doing its best to keep the two girls and their Pikachu carry-on aloft, but the weight proved to be too much for the bird. The best it could manage was a semi-controlled fall, trying without success to slow their nearly two vertical mile descent.  
  
  
"We're going too fast!" Dixie cupped her hands to her mouth, screaming to be heard. Like Misty, she was wrapped delicately in one of Pidgeot's dangerous talons, hanging beneath the bird as they 'flew' down. "It's too much for Pidgeot to handle!"  
  
"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Misty screamed back, venting her fear and anger through frustration as she tried to be heard. "It's not like we can just 'teach' Pidgeot to carry more weight!"  
  
Dixie brightened, her eyes going wide with surprise. "Wait a minute! Yes we can!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Twisting slightly, she managed to reach into her pack. As she unzipped it, several different items rained out, flying every which way; a spoon, her sleeping bag, extra clothes...Misty prayed that no one was below them to take the brunt of the items' fall, much less their own. Finally, she pulled out her grandfather's miracle device, the HM Accelerator.  
  
"How's this supposed to help us now?" Misty shouted, unable to hold back the sarcasm in her voice despite the situation. Ash had always told her that she could always be counted on to be snide, no matter how much trouble they were in. She hated it when he was right. "Are we going to cut our way out of this mess?"  
  
"No!" Dixie pulled a small chip from her pocket, plugging it in to the machine. The Accelerator came to life with a series of beeps and hums, its access panel lighting up. "Lawrence gave me the number two chip. It teaches a flying technique."  
  
"What kind of flying technique?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't KNOW?" Misty roared, her stomach already sinking. "What do you mean, you don't know?"  
  
"Look, do you have a better idea?" Dixie shot back. When Misty didn't answer, she took it as a 'no'. "Now look," she explained, splitting the device in half, as it was meant to do when used, "We have to get this on either side of his temple. I can't do this alone, not right now." Straining her arm, she reached over to hand the other half to Misty.  
  
The redhead hesitated, wavering in her conviction. Either side of the bird's temple...that meant letting go. That meant free falling. She hated free falling.  
  
If she made just one mistake...  
  
Just one little mistake...  
  
Splat.  
  
But what choice did she have?  
  
Reaching out, Misty took the Accelerator half, nodding slowly. She swallowed her fear, and told her urge to vomit to stuff it, giving Dixie a weak thumbs-up.  
  
"On three," Dixie shouted up towards Pidgeot's head, "I want you to let us go. Understand, Pidgeot?"  
  
"Jyo!" Misty desperately hoped that 'Jyo' meant 'yes'.  
  
"One!" Dixie shouted at the top of her lungs.  
  
"T-two!" Misty took the next number. Her eye caught Dixie's, and she took comfort in seeing that the newest member of their group was just as afraid as she was right now.  
  
"THREE!" they shouted together, pushing away from Pidgeot. As ordered, the avian Pokémon had uncurled its talons and let them into free fall, hanging out in the middle of air with nothing holding them, save for gravity's unbreakable grip. Misty's mouth opened to scream as she began to drift away from Pidgeot, but no sounds came out. After a half-second of eternity, she shut her mouth and forced herself to concentrate on the task ahead. Pidgeot was just a few feet in front of her, with Pikachu clinging desperately to its plumage, tiny eyes squeezed shut, and claws digging painfully into the bird's back.   
  
Beyond the two, Dixie was using her entire body as a modified airfoil, trying to maneuver towards Pidgeot without losing too much speed to wind resistance. Misty began to do the same, tilting forward, her eyes tearing and burning with the incredible wind ripping into her soft features.  
  
At long last, they both reached Pidgeot's neck, each gripping the bird with a single arm. Misty wanted to scream, to dance in celebration at having survived so far, but they weren't even close to being done, and there was maybe a single mile between them and the Appalachian ground left.  
  
A minute more...maybe two...  
  
"Put it on his temple!" Dixie's voice brought Misty's focus back, forcing her to shake off the visions of her own death. She did as she was told, pressing the Accelerator gently on the side of Pidgeot's head. Dixie nodded in satisfaction, doing the same. "Here goes nothing!" Taking a deep breath, she triggered the activator.  
  
Pidgeot screamed, trilling so loudly that Misty thought her eardrums were going to start bleeding at any moment. She couldn't imagine what it felt like, having information imprinted directly onto your brain. Did it hurt, or was the Pokémon merely surprised? She hoped the latter, and also hoped that she would never have to find out firsthand. Pidgeot's eyes began glowing a deep amber yellow, a glow that soon faded.  
  
"Is that it?" Misty shouted across. She looked worriedly at Pidgeot, who seemed a bit dizzy after the ordeal. "Did it work?"  
  
"We'll find out in a second!" Dixie answered grimly. "Okay, Pidgeot: Fly!"  
  
Pidgeot's eyes began glowing again with the same golden light. This time, though, the bird Pokémon did not scream. Instead, it seemed joyful, as if instilled with some new kind of power. Soon, everything around them began to glow amber, surrounded in a surreal light. At first, Misty thought that Pidgeot had somehow turned the entire world yellow. Then she realized that she was the one that was glowing, that Pidgeot's new ability, its new power, had grabbed hold of her.  
  
First they were in free fall.  
  
Then they were in no-fall.  
  
Misty simply couldn't believe it; she had only placed a single arm on Pidgeot's neck to stabilize herself for Dixie's tricky maneuver. Suddenly, Pidgeot had stopped falling, hanging in midair as if it had somehow applied an emergency brake. Stranger still, Misty, Dixie, and Pikachu had all stopped with it. The four of them were floating, but it didn't feel like floating...  
  
It felt like flying!  
  
With a joyous whoop, Pidgeot inverted and dove for the ground in a nosedive, taking the rest of them with it. This time, though, the bird was in perfect control. Dixie was the first to let go, tentatively testing Pidgeot's technique; she didn't drop like a rock, as Newton would have insisted her to do. Instead, she simply flew right alongside Pidgeot, her arms akimbo, laughing and crying with every swoop, every juke that Pidgeot made. Casting her doubt away, Misty let go as well. It was glorious! The freedom, the rush of unaided flight...it was intoxicating! Behind her, she could hear Pikachu's tiny voice laughing and egging Pidgeot on, trying to get the bird to go faster, be more daring.  
  
After a few minutes, and several loop-the-loops, Pidgeot finally them down. The enormous bird was first to touch ground, with the other three setting down gently at its side. A moment later the amber aura faded around each of them. They fell to their knees as one, laughing and dizzy from the heady experience. Pidgeot merely tilted its head, staring at them as they carried on loudly.  
  
"I never..." Dixie panted, falling back on her butt, "I never imagined anyone could do anything like that...ever!"  
  
"It was incredible..." Misty agreed, resting on her knees. She looked over at Pikachu, who still looked loopy from the loops. "It was phenomenal...It was..." Her hand brushed down by her waist, coming into contact with something foreign. It took her a minute to remember what it was. "Hey, Dixie?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Misty laughed, unstrapping Ash's Pokébelt from her slender hips, where it had been ever since he had given it to her for safekeeping when he first got Lawrence's message. "I had Ash's belt the entire time...we could have ridden down on his other flying types."  
  
"We didn't have to go through any of that?" Dixie asked her breathlessly. Misty nodded, which sent Dixie into uncontrollable laughter. Misty joined in, not quite knowing why they were laughing. She didn't think Dixie knew either. It probably just felt good to laugh again.  
  
It helped drive the terror away.  
* * *  
  
Ash groaned, slowly coming around. The first thing he was truly aware of was that his entire body hurt. His ribs, which had taken more than their fair share of punishment over the past few days, were screaming at him in protest, aching with every rattling breath he managed to get into his lungs. His left leg was still cut and pierced from when Delta had freed him of Lawrence's manacles and his right ankle didn't seem to be facing the correct direction anymore.  
  
All in all, Ash felt like crap.  
  
But he was still alive.  
  
Groaning again, he managed to open his eyes. Above him, wafting, dirty pines slowly came into focus, drifting above him as if in another reality against the starry night sky. He was on the ground...but how? It seemed that the last thing he could remember was Delta hauling him out of the bay's huge doors, letting the both of them drop like a stone. Had the assassin been so determined to kill him that he would sacrifice himself as well? If so, he had failed.  
  
But not by much.  
  
Propping himself up on his elbows, he began to gather his legs underneath him in order to stand up. It took every ounce of will he had not to pass out from the pain, as his right ankle refused to do anything but hurt worse than anything he had ever felt before. By God, it hadn't hurt this much when he had died...either time! "AHH!" he howled in pain, his cry echoing off of canyons, trees, and other such foresty things.  
  
He fell back to the ground, hitting his head against something hard and cold. The good thing was that it helped take away from the pain in his ankle...the bad news was that, with his luck, it had probably split his head open like a cantaloupe. Absently, he wondered how things could possible get worse.  
  
As if to answer, a dark shadow suddenly monopolized his vision. Squinting through the haze of pain, he saw Delta standing above him, gun already drawn and leveled at his head. Ash felt a cold sliver of fear in the back of his woozy brain. 'GET UP, YOU IDIOT, HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!" His mind screamed, but he knew too well that he was in no condition to even get up, much less run for his very life. It was finally over, after all these years. Team Rocket had beaten him.  
  
Then Delta did something that genuinely surprised him. Without ever moving his gun, he looked down at Ash and asked, "Any idea where we are?"  
  
"Somewhere...on the ground...I think." Ash managed to get out, the edges of his vision going black. Why was Delta asking him these stupid questions? "Going to...finish the job...and call your friends?"  
  
Delta shook his head, still aiming right for Ash's heart. He reached down with his left hand and pulled a broken radio off of his belt, showing it to Ash, then tossing it to the side. "My comm broke after those robot things shot my emergency chute and we had to make a rough landing."  
  
"Chute?" Ash murmured, trying to remember. "Landing?" That would explain why he wasn't a smear on the forest floor, but it didn't explain why Delta had kept him alive this long, much less why he had shared a chute with the boy. Picking his left wrist up weakly, he began to speak into his watch, an action that made Delta the surprised one for a change. "Gear...Location."  
  
If speaking to a watch had given the assassin pause for wonder, the man was floored when the watch began speaking back to the boy in a crisp, very feminine voice. "Location confirmed: approximately two miles south-southwest of previous position."  
  
"Locate...Pokédex." He mumbled again, already slipping in and out of consciousness. It was all he could do to keep himself awake, afraid that if he fell asleep, it would be for the last time. "Are the girls...okay? What...what about P...Pikachu?"  
  
The Pokégear hummed for a moment, processing the request. "Unit Pokédex location confirmed: approximately four point six miles north-northeast of current position."  
  
"They must've...fallen the opposite direction..." Ash chuckled, more out of reflex than of true amusement. He was immediately relieved to hear that they were safely out of harm's way...at least, he hoped so. If he was going to die, at least he would go out knowing that his Pokémon and his friends were all right.  
  
"This hardly seems like the time for laughter, Ketchum." Delta told him in a low voice. His finger applied the slightest pressure to the trigger, letting it creak ever so slightly underneath his grip. "This is serious."  
  
"If you were about to die..." Ash wheezed, coughing, "What would you do?" The Omega Red remained stonily silent for a moment, pondering the situation. Then he pointed to Ash's wrist with his free hand, indicating the Pokégear.  
  
"Is that thing some kind of map?" he asked. Ash nodded slowly, unable to find the strength to speak, and not sure if he even wanted to bother. Last words never really had appealed to him. "Does it only respond to you?" Again Ash nodded, knowing full well that Gear had no real preference, and would respond to anyone that strapped it on. Again, the assassin paused in silence a moment, as if pondering something. Finally, he slipped his gun into its holster with a sigh, then bent over to examine Ash's broken form.  
  
"What..." Ash managed to whisper, but Delta quickly told him to kindly shut his mouth.  
  
"Fractured ribs..." Delta moved up and down Ash's athletic frame, testing various points for reactions and pain. "Plenty of bruises...broken ankle." He took a quick look at Ash's head, being as gentle as any Nurse Joy Ash had ever seen. "Your head doesn't look good, either."  
  
"What's the bottom line, doctor?" Ash managed to joke, half-awake and drunk with pain.  
  
"Stay here. We're not going anywhere until morning anyway, and not before I make sure you can survive the trip."  
  
"What about your mission?"  
  
Delta took one last glance at Ash as he got up, dusting his hands off. "You let me worry about my mission, kid. I'll kill you on my own terms. In the meantime, let's see if I can patch you up. Now rest. I'll be back in a little while."  
  
Ash was out cold before he ever finished the last sentence.  
* * *  
  
Brock groaned in frustration, parting a pair of tree branches in his path as he stole a glance over his shoulder. "Will you three hurry up already? We have a lot of ground to cover!"  
  
"Quiet, twerp!" Jessie snarled as she clutched a nasty cut on her shoulder. The entire top right part of her split jacket was stained with a mixture of crimson blood and dark brown earth. Every move she made sent a shaft of pain lancing through her, which made the trip back to wherever it was they were going both long and painful. "Who died and made you boss, anyway? We're in charge, here."  
  
James kept his mouth shut, still hauling the unconscious form of their feline friend as he remained by Jessie's side. He was more concerned about how they were going to get out of this one than who led them where. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, lucky to be alive after their multi-billion dollar, one-of-a-kind assault jet had made an "emergency landing" in the middle of the forest, not too far from where Lawrence's sky fortress still hung.  
  
Brock rolled his eyes, a movement that was invisible to the Rockets, as he tried desperately to keep his patience. Never again would he complain about traveling with his hardheaded teenage companions...not after a few hours in the woods with these nimrods. "Then what would you suggest, oh wise and skilled agent of evil?" he asked mockingly, letting the sarcasm drip from his voice as if it were basted in his own frustration.  
  
Jessie looked in either direction, seeing nothing but unfamiliar forest. Like the twerps, Team Rocket was still new to America. She was rapidly getting sick of the fresh pine scent, too. Then she looked up, spying the ominous, imposing airship that hung above them, the axe of their would-be executioner. "Uh...keep taking point. James and I will guard our flanks."  
  
"Aye-aye," Brock turned back, muttering several choice phrases in English, Japanese, and a few strings of native islander. The Breeder let his thoughts drift to Ash, Misty, and Dixie. He hoped desperately that they were all right. He could never live with himself if they were still trapped on Lawrence's floating island, prisoners of the megalomaniac madman.  
  
"Keep it moving, Squinty Joe!" Jessie fumed, already renewing her pace behind him.  
  
With a small smirk, Brock drew back the branches that he held extra far, letting them go only after Jessie was well in range.  
  
THWAP!  
  
"OW!"  
* * *  
  
Dixie searched through the remainder of her pack, praying that she hadn't lost it. "It has to be here somewhere..." she muttered, digging through her personal items, food, and clothes. "Where is it?" If it had indeed fallen out during their aerial maneuvers, then it was as good as street pizza now. "C'mon..."  
  
Misty bent over her, balancing Pikachu on her shoulder. She had managed to return Pidgeot to its Pokéball, but Pikachu, as always, stubbornly refused to enter the capture/containment device. Ash had always been the one to tote his Pokémon around, but in his absence, Misty was always more than happy to provide an arm-up for the tiny mouse. Together, they examined the inside of Dixie's pack as the young blonde dismantled it. "Wha'cha looking for?"  
  
"I need to make sure that we still have the Itemfinder." Dixie muttered, more to herself than to answer Misty's query. "Can't have lost it. It has to be here...somewhere."  
  
The mention of Dixie's personal electronic scanner jogged Misty's mind into activity. She pulled Dexter off of Ash's Pokébelt, still strapped around her waist, and flipped it open. "Dexter:" she commanded, "Scan for Gear's tracer chip." It was simple enough, really; if they found the Pokégear, they would find Ash.  
  
Or at least, what was left of him after Delta was through.  
  
She shook off the thoughts as the Pokédex began to speak. "Ohhhh....Grrrrrr....Doooohhhaaa..."  
  
"Dexter?"  
  
Apparently, that caught the machine's attention. "Hello, how am I? Oh, I'm fine, thank me. Would you like a scone?" Dexter's screen was filled with hazy static, blinking in and out faster than any strobe light Misty had ever seen.  
  
Dixie pulled her head out of her bag, looking up. "Is there a problem?"  
  
Misty nodded as Ash's Pokédex continued to babble on. "Dexter's malfunctioning...I don't understand, though, he had an upgrade just a few months ago, the Professor gave him a clean bill of-" Then she noticed it; a series of spiderwebbed cracks and fractures on the outside of the Pokédex's glossy translucent-red casing. "Oh no..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Misty's mind flashed back to Lawrence's airship, when they had been captured and held in the clutches of his deadly Mechémon. Her ribs ached at the mere thought of Archimedes crushing her in his deadly grip. "Back on the flying island..." Misty mumbled, her mind a million miles elsewhere, "When that thing was putting the squeeze on me...it must have crushed Dexter in the process."  
  
"Pikachu..." Pikachu leaned over on Misty's shoulder, staring sadly at the broken device as it began to scan about wildly, yammering on about French wine and the ambient temperature of bathroom fungus.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So?" Misty looked down at the device, which was arguing with itself whether Pikachu was a Zapdos or a grilled cheese sandwich. "So? So this means we can't find Ash, which means we can't meet up with him and start looking for Brock!" Misty's voice squeaked. She was about three sentences away from panic, if that.  
  
"Hmmm..." Dixie began digging in her pack again, and came out a moment later with a cry of triumph on her lips. "HA! We won't need the Pokédex as long as we have this!" She palmed the Itemfinder, tossing it up in the air. "Ash has HM-Oh-One on him right now, right?" When Misty nodded, Dixie gave her a beaming smile. "So, all we have to do is use the Itemfinder to lock on to Oh-One, and Bingo! Instant Ash!"  
  
Misty smiled, despite herself. It was actually very clever...she only wished she had thought of it first. And truth be told, she was glad that they wouldn't have to muddle through with the Pokédex. It was being even more obnoxious than usual.  
  
"I am the merry model of the modern mech mechanical..." the machine sang loudly in its best show tune voice, "With instruments examination, none of them botanical...La la la la la other words, la la la la la la la la...I am the merry model of the modern mech mechani-"  
  
Misty shut the Pokédex down before it could embarrass itself any further. "Well, what are we waiting for? Crank it up, and let's find us a trainer."  
  
"Hold your hormones." Dixie snapped back, strapping the device onto her head and fitting the lens over her left eye. She clicked the machine into activation and was about to request a lock on the Hidden Machine Ash had in his possession, when it began emitting a wild beeping sound. "What the..." Dixie touched the trackball embedded in the earpiece gently, moving the cursor on her screen about as she attempted to discern the cause of the Itemfinder's excitement. "Well, I'll be."  
  
"You found him?"  
  
"Better." She pointed off towards the southwest excitedly, closing up her pack and strapping it to her back. "Just a few miles from here, we have ourselves another Hidden Machine!"  
  
"Pika?"  
  
"What?" Misty could hardly believe it. The last couple of HMs they had encountered had been separated by over a thousand miles. Now, they found the third right in the backyard of the second. "That doesn't make sense..."  
  
"Maybe so, but the Itemfinder doesn't lie. Now grab your pack and let's go!"  
  
"Wait!" Misty protested as Dixie began walking hurriedly in the direction of the elusive device. "What if Ash and Brock aren't in that direction?"  
  
"And what if they are?" Dixie countered, already thrilled at the prospect of finding another of her grandfather's machines. "Look, do you have a better idea?"  
  
Misty had to admit that she didn't. With a sigh, she pulled her heavy pack on, trying to keep up with the other girl as they tromped through the forest. She silently wondered how on Earth they always got themselves into messes such as these, or if they truly deserved the trouble that life was giving them right now.  
* * *  
  
As he had been doing for the past three hours, Delta couldn't help but wonder exactly what had possessed him to let himself get into this situation. There he was, stuck in a strange new country, lost in some mountainous woods, with nothing but moonlight to guide his way, and the target he had been sent to kill was leaning on his shoulder, walking only because of a makeshift splint that Delta himself had constructed. Every fiber of his training told him he should be killing Ash Ketchum, that he should be doing whatever it takes to see to it that the boy never saw another sunrise. So why hadn't he?  
  
"We need to stop." Ash's hoarse voice murmured down by Delta's shoulder. Delta looked down at the boy's face, now a mass of dried blood and swelling bruises. Ash had taken the fall much worse than Delta had, who had been spared injury thanks to his training. That bump on Ash's head still had Delta a bit worried as well. He was almost positive that it was a concussion.  
  
"We're going to keep moving." Delta told him firmly, trying to put some disdain and hate into his voice that he just didn't feel. The truth was, he felt sorry for the kid. Here he was, only sixteen years old, and already he had responsibilities that some adults never even knew of. "If you can't handle the pace, I'll gladly leave you somewhere to die by a tree."  
  
"We have to stop...now." Ash said, this time with a little more conviction. He tried digging his heels into the ground, slowing the pair down. "Stop." he insisted groggily.  
  
Snorting, Delta released his grip on the Ketchum boy, letting him drop to the ground. Helping him was one thing, but the Omega Red refused to take orders from the boy, pity or no pity. "Fine. Stay here and bleed to death for all I care. At least then my mission will be complete." He kept walking, throwing his hands up in the air. "Try to help the kid," he spoke as if Ash weren't there, "And what does he do? He tells you to stop. What an idiot."  
  
"Actually," Ash half-moaned, half-chuckled from the ground, "I'd say that you're the idiot right now."  
  
Delta whirled around, his hand on his gun. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"  
  
"Because, I'm not the one who walked in between an Ursaring and her Teddiursa cub."  
  
Delta's blood ran cold, chilled to a stream of icy fear as he looked off to his left. Sure enough, he saw a tiny teddy cub with a ringed tummy, tilting its head in curiosity at him as it stared with beady black eyes. A deep, snarling rumble from his right confirmed Ketchum's observation, and told Delta that he was about to be in a whole world of hurt.  
  
The mother Ursaring charged from out of the wooded thicket, roaring in fury at the interloper who dared to come between herself and her pride and joy. Before Delta could clear his gun from its holster, mama bear had overtaken him. With a single swipe from its claw, the assassin was carried off of his feet and knocked a good fifteen feet away, falling to his rump with a bone-jarring thud. He managed to roll with the attack, which meant that nothing was broken, but that was about it. He again reached for his gun, only to find that it was missing. He managed to find it out of the corner of his eye, lying just beyond reach. If he could have another second...  
  
...A second that the Ursaring wasn't going to give him. The enormous mass of muscle, teeth, and brown fur bore down on Delta, rearing up on her hind legs and bellowing at the man with uncontrolled fury. Just as Delta was about to kiss his miserable existence goodbye, Ursaring was struck in the side of the head by a small rock, drawing a tiny rivulet of blood from her muzzle. With a snarl, the enormous bear Pokémon's head snapped back, looking in the direction of the attack.  
  
"Hey ugly!" Ash Ketchum shouted, palming another rock. "Why not try picking on someone only half your size, huh?" He tossed another rock, catching the Pokémon square between the eyes. Years of practice with Pokéballs had made him a crack shot, and rocks weren't all that different from the capture spheres.   
  
"C'mon, over here! Why eat him when you've got a nice piece of wounded meat to chew on?"  
  
Ursaring saw only red as it charged towards Ash, her previous prey forgotten. She would tear the arrogant newcomer apart right before her cub's eyes, though she was loathe to do something so gruesome in front of her child. "Urrrrrrrrsssssssaaaaaaa!!!" she screeched, bearing down on the animal.  
  
"That's right, right here!" Ash shouted. He glanced over, catching Delta's eye. The assassin couldn't have been more shocked if the boy had stood up on his busted ankle and ripped off a mask to reveal the face of Alfred Giovanni beneath it. "What are you waiting for, you idiot?" Ash yelled at him, "Get your gun! Scare her off!"  
  
That shook Delta out of his stupor. In one fluid motion, he dove for his gun, rolled off of his shoulder and came up on one knee with Rose in his hand. With careful aim that came from years of experience, he squeezed the trigger and sent a round off. The concussion of the gun rocked his arms back as the bullet flew out at tremendous speed.   
  
Without any sort of warning, the mother Ursaring suddenly found itself with a small jolt of blinding pain coming from her hindquarters. Caught off her guard, Ursaring tripped and fell, tumbling head over claws and rolling right past Ash until she finally came to rest beneath a tree. She began to moan and whine, picking and gnawing at the bullet wound in her behind. Her cub waddled over, bleating questioningly at its mother.  
  
Delta picked himself up and limped over to Ash, scowling down at the boy. As a reflex, he pointed the gun square at Ash's melon, ready to splatter his brains across the forest floor. Ash sneered up in contempt, trying to pick himself up. "Go on," he spat weakly, still too tired and injured to stand on his own, "Finish it. We both know that's what you'll do eventually."  
  
Delta nearly did just that, putting a minute amount of pressure on the trigger. He could feel it trembling beneath his finger. Another ounce of pressure, and the gun would go off. In the end, though, he simply holstered the gun once more and grabbed Ash by his jacket collar, hauling the boy to his feet with one arm. "Come on. We need to move before mother dearest realizes that it's only a flesh wound."  
  
Thankfully, Ash didn't bother to question why the assassin hadn't killed him yet. He did, however, risk a smirk in Delta's direction. "I told you that you were the idiot."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"And then I had to go and save your life."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"So now you owe me one, huh?"  
  
"I'm going to kill you, kid." Delta muttered, not sure if he meant it or not.  
  
Ash couldn't help but smile. "I know that. That's why I'm having a little fun while I can.  
* * *  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Here."  
  
Misty peered into the murky waters of the tiny pond she, Dixie, and Pikachu had come across in their trek. Following the Itemfinder's electronic breadcrumb trail to the new Hidden Machine had been a fairly easy task, and now it seemed that their labors were about to bear fruit. "I don't see anything." she got down on her hands and knees, nearly putting her face into the cool, calm water.  
  
Dixie shucked her pack, letting it drop to the ground as she tweaked the Itemfinder range display. "The Itemfinder said that the HM's about twelve to fourteen feet below us..."  
  
Misty stood, stretching her arms and touching her toes. "Piece of cake. I'll have that thing out of there before you can say 'waterlogged'." Small twinges began popping up all over her lower back and hamstrings, but she wasn't about to let on that she wasn't in top condition for a dive.   
  
Reaching in to her backpack, she pulled out her trusty one-piece bathing suit, the one she had kept over from her old shows back at the Cerulean Gym's stadium. As she slipped her T-shirts over her head, she made a mental note to pick up a new one at the next town they hit; this one was wearing thin in a few key places. She had just gotten her shirt bundled up underneath her chin when she saw Pikachu staring nervously at her out of the corner of her eye. Clearing her throat loudly, she gave the Pokémon an annoyed glare, and it turned around sheepishly.  
  
"Pika..." Pikachu protested softly as the Mistress of Water continued to strip, "Pikachu. Pika-pika, pika-cha, pi, pikachu pika pika cha pikachu."  
  
"I'll be fine, Pikachu." Misty insisted as she pulled the shoulder bands of the suit up and over her slender, sinewy arms.  
  
"Pika. Pi cha, Pika pi chu."  
  
She smiled softly, shaking her head. "I know what Ash told you, but I'm a big girl, and he isn't my father." She picked up Ash's Pokéball belt and strapped it around her waist, pulling the band down tight. Though she had plenty of her own Pokémon to take along, she wanted to make sure that nothing happened to Ash's Pokémon, even for a moment. She knew it was something that Ash would have wanted... 'Stop it,' she forcefully ordered herself, 'You're thinking like he's already dead. He isn't dead...is he?'  
  
"Pika?" the mouse asked hopefully.  
  
The smile disappeared. "Or my boyfriend. Now stop being silly." With that, she reached again into her bag, this time withdrawing a pair of Pokéballs. "Let's go, guys." With a tap of her thumb and a flick of her wrists, she released the stars of her own little water show, Staryu and Starmie. "We have a chip to find."  
  
"Hyah!"  
  
"Hoo!"  
  
Dixie walked Misty to the water's edge, reluctantly handing her the Itemfinder. Silently, both of the girls individually prayed that the device had been waterproofed. "Good luck." Dixie offered her redheaded friend.  
  
Misty gave her an encouraging smile. "When you're as talented as I am, you don't need luck.  
  
Together as one, and with a unison that sprung from years of synchronized practice, Misty and her Pokémon dove into the murky waters of the pond, submerging in the blink of an eye as they disappeared beneath the surface. Just as she had predicted, the water was ice cold against Misty's pale ivory skin, chilling her to the bone within a moment. She shivered, careful not to let her lungs lose the precious air inside. Blinking a few times to adjust her eyes, she began her search for the HM, letting her gaze play about the sandy bottom.   
Though she didn't see anything but large rocks and dirt, Dixie's one-of-a-kind machine was telling her that their treasure was right under her, stuck somewhere beside a particularly large boulder.  
  
With a few frog kicks, she managed to propel herself down to the bottom, and began sifting her delicate fingers through the gritty brown muck. Staryu and Starmie flanked her, keeping close watch over her as she worked. Who knew what dangers lurked in this pond?  
  
Misty's lungs began to burn for air, but she continued to sift and probe the bottom. A small patch of grassy plants...no, not there. Somewhere to her left...no, not there either. She was just about to give up and head back up for a breath when a small glint caught her attention, down low near the base of a large, precariously balanced rock. Could it be?   
  
Yes! The Itemfinder's eyepiece lit up like a Chinese New Year the second she laid eyes on the small metallic chip. With another kick, she reached the rock and began digging at the edges of the chip. Whoever had put it here must have put the chip into the rock, then the rock into the water, she mused, even as her body desperately screamed out for a fresh supply of oxygen. Even though her body panicked, her mind stayed focused. 'This is no time to panic,' she thought.  
  
Little by little, the rock chipped away, revealing at last the edge she needed to pry the chip loose. With a few hearty tugs, she felt the chip give away into her hands. She slipped it underneath the top of her swimsuit for safekeeping, gave her stars a thumbs-up, and began making her way for the surface.  
  
It was then that disaster chose to strike; the precarious rock that Misty had been clawing at finally gave in to gravity, tilting over and beginning a slow, painful descent towards the mucky pond bottom. Even as Misty began to swim for the top, the boulder crashed down noiselessly, coming down at her with tremendous weight. Some might have called her lucky; if she hadn't started swimming when she did, the rock might have crushed her. As it was, all it ended up doing was trapping her strong, slender legs against the soft, gritty floor.   
  
Misty screamed involuntarily as the rock dragged her back to the bottom, letting out precious air and replacing it with a belly full of water. Staryu and Starmie circled her furiously, already hysterical that their trainer was trapped underwater. She pointed frantically up towards the surface, trying to signal for them to get help.  
  
'Now it's time to panic...' she thought, even as her vision grew dim.  
* * *  
  
Dixie peered down, kneeling on the pond's slippery edge. She exchanged worried glances with her yellow-furred companion, loathe to take her eyes from the water in case Misty would return. "She's been down there an awful long time, Pikachu."  
  
"Piii..." Pikachu wrung its tiny paws, biting down on its lower lip as it stared the water down in anticipation and anxiety. "Pikachu."  
  
Dixie sighed with frustration. Why was it that she was the only one who didn't understand Ash's rodent sidekick? Her frustration changed to hope as soon as she saw something break the water's surface, but returned when she saw that it was Staryu and Starmie, unaccompanied by either Misty or her grandfather's hidden chip.  
  
"Hyah! Hyah!" Staryu circled the pair excitedly, trying to say something to them. Starmie merely hovered above the water, shivering with impatience and buzzing at the landlubbery pair. "Hee, hyah! Hyah!"  
  
"Pika?"  
  
"Hyah!!!"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu's ears shot up as it turned to Dixie, tugging on her arm and pointing at the water with furious conviction. "Pika, pika pikachu!" the tiny mouse shouted, dancing around.  
  
"I don't under..." Dixie stopped herself, thinking rationally for the first time that day. Fact; Misty's Pokémon had come up. Fact; Misty had not. Fact; Pikachu was freaked out. Fact; Pikachu didn't get freaked out easily.   
"She can't make it up, can she?"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu nodded, jumping up and down.  
  
Without hesitating, without even thinking things through, Dixie kicked off her boots and leapt into the water, splashing clumsily into the water for a moment as she got her bearings. Then, she took a deep breath, inverted, and dove under the water, kicking and pumping her legs with fear-driven, adrenaline-charged power. In no time at all, she found Misty beneath the rippling water's surface, half of her trapped, the other half floating limply, a thin stream of bubbles trailing from her face. Her vibrant blue eyes were closed, which sent a wave of terror over Dixie.  
  
The Southern Belle grabbed hold of Misty's shoulders and tried to shake the other girl awake, but Misty's consciousness had left for lunch and didn't appear to show any signs of coming back early. Letting go, Dixie swam downward to the base of the rock and tried pathetically to lift the boulder off of the Water Mistress's legs. Even with all of her might behind the heave, she could barely get the rock to budge. She needed help, but how? Misty's Pokémon were still above surface, but they wouldn't have been of any use here. After all, how could an overgrown starfish help lift anything if it didn't have arms?  
  
Panicking, Dixie began looking about, as if something would just swim by and start lifting the rock for her. How could she have been so stupid? He didn't bring her Croconaw down with her, or any of Misty's Pokémon along. The only Pokémon they had down here was Ash's Pokébelt, and it contained the majority of his flying force. Pidgeot, Fearow, Articuno, Charizard...  
  
Dixie paused for just a moment, her heart freezing in a mixture of fear and hope; with those four, plus Pikachu, Ash had room for one last Pokémon on his team, which was planted firmly in its catch on the Pokébelt looped round Misty's waist. Ash had traded in either Ivysaur or Wartortle to bring in his Fearow, which meant that she had a fifty-fifty chance here. Either she would release his Wartortle, which could easily help her lift the rock and save Misty's life, or she would end up drowning not only Misty, but also Ash's beloved seed Pokémon, and probably herself as well in the process.  
  
Hesitating only another half-second, she ripped the Pokéball from Misty's lifeless form and triggered the release, holding it in the palm of her hand as the ball split in twain and exploded with a shower of dazzling energy. A horrifying moment of tension later, Ash's blue turtle Pokémon floated before her, getting its bearings among the new surroundings.  
  
Dixie nearly whooped with delight, but had to stop short before she swallowed half the pond. Gesturing to Wartortle, she pointed down at Misty's predicament and made lifting gestures, indicating her plan. The Pokémon gave her a wink and a grin, and swam down, getting its stubby hands beneath the boulder. Dixie moved opposite of it, and together they began lifting. Dixie was more than a little embarrassed when she realized that Wartortle was doing more than ninety percent of the work, but she put in as much as she had, and then some.   
  
Slowly but surely, the rock lifted up and off of Misty's legs. Now free from her bond, the Mistress of Water began to float towards the surface even as Dixie and her Pokémon partner heaved the rock off to the side, careful not to get caught beneath it. Then, like an aquatic bullet, Wartortle shot up towards Misty's receding form, catching her and aiding her ascent towards the precious air that she needed so badly. Dixie swam after them, coming up to the surface of the water a few seconds behind them.  
  
Even as Dixie hauled herself out of the icy water, Wartortle had Misty lying flat near the water's edge, pale and lifeless. Quick as she could, Dixie scrambled over the shore and hovered above Misty, unsure as to what she should do. First things first, she took the Itemfinder from her friend's face and tossed it aside so that it would not get in the way. "Come on, Misty...Breathe!" she slapped the girl's face a few times, but there was nothing, not even a twitch. Pikachu, Staryu, Wartortle, and Starmie began to crowd around. Though Pikachu and Wartortle were the only ones with a face, somehow all four managed a worried expression as they stood over their redheaded friend's still form.  
  
Forcing herself to calm down, Dixie began to perform CPR. She pressed her lips down onto Misty's, forcing air down into her body, then began pumping on the girl's diaphragm. One. Two. Three. Four. Five...still nothing, not even a twitch. She repeated the process all over again, trying not to give in to the hysteria that was gnawing at her. Breathe...One. Two. Three. Four. Five.  
  
"Come on, come on!" Dixie pleaded, tears stinging in her eyes and dripping down her cheeks. She leaned over again, once more giving her friend the kiss of life...  
  
And was delighted when Misty coughed up a vile concoction of mucus, saliva, and pond scum straight into her mouth. Dixie reeled back, spitting out Misty's "gift" even as the other girl sat up, wracked with fitful coughing and spasms as she tried to trade off the water in her lungs for air. "You're okay!" Dixie kept screaming, again and again. "You're okay! You're okay!"  
  
"Dixie," Misty coughed, pounding a fist on her chest, "Take it easy. I'm going to live, all right?" She smiled as the four Pokémon onlookers broke out into a cheer, yelling and dancing about. Pikachu leapt into Misty's arms and wrapped its tiny claws around Misty's neck in a big hug, crying and scolding and nursing her all at once. "It's okay, Pikachu. I'm fine." She said, even as she coughed up another pint of pond water.  
  
Dixie collapsed onto the ground, remembering her own exhaustion now that the ordeal was over. "Oh, man..." she sighed, thanking her lucky stars that everything turned out all right. "I was so worried about you. I really freaked when I saw you trapped down there."  
  
"Yeah..." Misty said uneasily. Then she cleared her throat, her voice becoming unsteady. "Dixie? Uh...I wanted to...What I mean is..."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Misty blushed. "Thanks for coming after me."  
  
"Hey," Dixie smiled at her, lacing her hands behind her head as she stared up at the night sky, "What are friends for?"  
  
Misty nodded, realizing for the first time that Dixie really was her friend. Not just the kinds of friends they met and made wherever they went, the kinds they always helped on their adventures. Dixie was one of her true friends; the kind she could trust, the kind that adventured right alongside her. She was as much a friend as Brock or Ash, and that surprised her a little.  
  
"Yeah." she said at last, returning Dixie's smile, "What are friends for?"  
  
The sound of a throat being cleared loudly behind them gave pause in the moment as Misty and Dixie turned. Standing behind them was a tall silhouette, one that neither of them recognized. Suddenly, a bright light flashed on, blinding the girls. They squealed in protest, even as their Pokémon took a defensive position between their trainers and the new threat.  
  
"Sorry!" a quiet, musical voice apologized through the bright haze. Quickly, the light was shone down towards the ground, creating a soft ambient glow. Blinking the stars away, Dixie was able to make out the vague lines of a ranger's forest green uniform, clinging to the outlines of what must have been a woman. "I didn't mean to shine it in your eyes, ladies. My name's Ranger Tausan. I'm part of a team investigating some strange goings-on that have been happening in the area recently."  
  
"Are we glad to see you!" Misty leapt to her feet, despite her exhaustion. Finally, they would be able to get some help in their fight against Delta and the insane Collector.  
  
"Do you ladies know anything about a flying island?"  
  
"Do we ever!" It was Dixie's turn to stand. She recalled Ash's Wartortle and began to describe the events of the past two days, leaving out some key parts, like the Hidden Machines, or Ash's previous encounters with Lawrence, leading up to their final leap from the airship and their miraculous survival. Ash she did so, Misty retrieved her own Pokéballs, recalling Staryu and Starmie and placing them carefully back into her pack along with the rest of her pocket monsters.  
  
"I see..." the ranger said. "Well, it sounds like this one friend of yours...Ash, did you say his name was? It sounds like he'll need medical attention immediately. Do you know where he is?"  
  
Dixie paused for a moment, then retrieved her discarded Itemfinder. "We can look for him with this!" As the ranger regarded it with some skepticism, she strapped it on to her own face. "Trust me. With this thing, we'll find Ash in no time."  
  
"Good." was all the ranger would say. Within moments, the girls were all packed up, and Dixie had reprogrammed the Itemfinder to locate Hidden Machine Oh-One, which was safely on Ash's person...she hoped. Together, the group trudged back into the forest, with Dixie leading the way, and the ranger bringing up the rear.  
* * *  
  
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Appalachian ridge, sending a cascade of colors boldly across the darkened sky. It glazed the forest in a soft bath of orange and yellow as night once again yielded to day, just as it always had, and just as it always would until the day the sun refused to shine anymore.  
  
Hobbling along, Ash couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he had lived to see it all at least one last time. He wasn't fooling himself, and Delta wasn't fooling him either; he had no doubt that the assassin would finish the job eventually. The waiting, the tension in every moment as he waited for the sweet kiss of oblivion, was beginning to get to Ash. As they hobbled together towards a clearing ahead, the prodigy Trainer couldn't help but wonder if that would be his final resting place.  
  
"Let's stop up ahead in the clearing," Delta grunted without looking down at him, "And take another reading on your friends." It had been hours since the Ursaring incident, and Ash could tell that Delta was forcing himself to ignore whatever injuries the bear Pokémon had given him.  
  
Ash tried to put a little humor in his voice. "I could use a rest myself." he smirked. Delta just snorted in contempt, dragging Ash along as they reached the edge of the clearing. It wasn't all that large; just a small spot on the ground where the trees had decided not to grow. Both Ash and Delta were disappointed that there wasn't any water, but neither was willing to say a word.  
  
"I don't need to rest."  
  
"Y'know," Ash grunted as he eased himself down onto a boulder with a long, painful sigh, "It's okay to be human. No one'll hold it against you."  
  
Delta remained standing, looming above Ash. Still, Ash could tell that his unlikely traveling companion was taking the opportunity to catch his breath. Delta's shoulder sagged with fatigue, and his breath was a little ragged. "I'm not human." he stated in a bone-chilling monotone. "Not even close. I'm Omega Red."  
  
Ash was about to respond when a flying blur came out from behind them and struck Delta, tackling the larger man and bringing him to the ground. Ash was astonished, but not enough so that he forgot how crippled he was at the moment, and remained seated.  
  
"ASH!" Brock shouted as he struggled with the Team Rocket assassin, "RUN! GO!" It was clear that Delta was about to break the chokehold Brock had on him. He had another ten seconds at best before the assassin flipped him on his butt and showed him the proper technique for a choke...a lethal one.  
  
"Brock, you have it all-" Ash started to say, but a pair of smoke bombs cut him off, exploding in the middle of the clearing and obscuring his vision. He coughed pathetically, cursing his own weakness and his lack of Pokémon. How could he have been so stupid as to leave his team with Misty? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid...and dumb. Without his Pokémon, he was just a kid with a hat who shouted orders. Stupid!  
  
"Prepare for trouble!"  
  
Speaking of stupid...  
  
"Make it double!"  
  
A pair of shadows emerged from the unnatural fog, followed by a third, much shorter shadow. Even Delta and Brock had stopped their grappling as the pair began to speak, their words ringing out across the sun-kissed clearing.  
  
"To protect the world from devastation,"  
  
"To unite all peoples within our nation,"  
  
The smoke began to clear as Jessie and James continued their motto, much to the aggravation of Ash's headache, which had just tripled. "To denounce the evils of truth and love,"  
  
"To extend our reach to the stars above,"  
  
"Jessie," the scarlet-crowned Rocket wench stepped through the last wisps of the smoke, casting off her wispy mask with a haughty smirk.  
  
James did likewise, a large rubber net casually slung over his shoulder. "James," he added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Team Rocket..." Jessie stopped, tilting her head in Ash's direction. "Wait a minute...hold the motto!" She stomped over to the young boy, her hands sternly on her hips as she glared straight into Ash's eyes. "You! Boy! Where's your Pikachu?"  
  
"He's not here..." Ash said slowly, wondering not for the first time (nor the last) if Jessie was mentally stable. "I left him with Misty."  
  
"Just great!" Meowth threw his claws into the air, totally exasperated. "We follow dat squinty, stupid blockhead through da forest, waiting for a shot at Pikachu, and we end up finding da wrong twerp, which," he added, shaking a scornful claw at Ash, "Should have been da 'right' twerp. Shame on you for not keeping your own Pokémon with you."  
  
"Yeah. Right. Sorry about that." Ash muttered, rolling his eyes. James sullenly dropped the net, kicking up some dust and muttering about never getting to capture Pikachu anymore.  
  
"Well, let's cut our losses." Jessie sighed, folding her arms across her rounded bust. "James, call the jet." she ordered. James simply stood there, staring at her as if she had grown a second head. "Well?"  
  
"Uh, Jessie," he scratched the back of his neck. "We crashed the jet, remember?"  
  
"Oh. Right." she cleared her throat, trying not to blush. "All right then, call the balloon."  
  
"Can't." Meowth shook his oversized head. "We had to trade the balloon in to get the jet."  
  
Jessie turned red, but from anger, not embarrassment. "Well, call SOMETHING!" she screamed, stamping her foot.  
  
"How about an ambulance?"  
  
The stray quip from the edge of the clearing grabbed Jessie's attention, just in time to catch a blast of concentrated air full on in the chest. Jessie flew back, screaming as she crashed back into the trees and disappeared from view. Ash's Pidgeot hopped into view on the opposite side of the clearing with Misty mounted on its back. Dixie walked up beside the enormous bird, with Pikachu and Wartortle at her side, hands curled deftly into fists. A third figure stood behind the two girls and their Pokémon squad, folding her arms and smirking at the whole scene, as if she found something cute about it.  
  
"The cavalry's here, guys!" Dixie called out, "And they brought reinforcements, too." She glanced back at their ranger friend, and was a little unsettled when the ranger's piercing gaze fell on her, the smirk still firmly in place.  
  
"I'm afraid not, little girl." The ranger grunted. With a single hand, she reached out and grabbed Dixie by the neck, wrapping her fingers around the girl's esophagus and lifting her off of the ground with unbelievable strength. With a free foot, she caught both Wartortle and Pikachu in a football punt that sent the two Pokémon flying. Dixie's eyes bugged out of her head as she struggled to breathe, punching and kicking the ranger to no avail. "Well, actually, you're half-right. You just brought the cavalry for the wrong side."  
  
"Tau!" Delta shoved the stunned Brock off of him, rising unsteadily to his feet. "This is my assignment," he growled angrily, pulling out his gun. "Butt out!"  
  
"I was just sent in to clean up your mess, Delta." Tau commented offhandedly, tightening her stranglehold on Dixie as she stepped forward. "Now, kindly finish off these gawkers while I take care of the main target." She tossed the blonde bombshell aside effortlessly, shocking all that stood before her.  
  
A sudden gust of wind blew the assassin off of her feet, knocking her to the ground. "Forgetting something, Ms. Ranger?" Misty called out from atop Pidgeot. Her feathered steed hopped forward, wings spread and ready to attack again. "If you want a piece of him, you'll have to tangle with us first."  
  
"Gladly." Without warning, Tau leapt up in a handstand and sprung up, flipping over and leaping high into the air, coming down on top of the pair before they ever knew what hit them. With a single kick, the deadly, diabolical woman sent Misty sprawling and tumbling onto the ground. Landing on top of Pidgeot, she wrapped her legs around its neck and twisted. For half a heartbeat Ash was terrified that she would snap the bird's neck, but instead she merely drove Pidgeot's head straight into the ground, stunning it. At the end of the three seconds it took all of this to happen, Tau stood up and calmly brushed herself off, grinning from ear to ear. She looked down at Misty, who was groaning and clutching her ribs, grimacing in pain. "Is there anyone else who would like to stand up for the boy?"  
  
"Piii..."  
  
Delta grimaced as Ketchum's tiny, battered Pikachu hobbled over, standing between Tau and its trainer with arms akimbo, as if it could hope to stop the super-strong assassin. True, Ketchum's Pikachu was no ordinary Pokémon, not by a long shot, but even with all of the training it had received, it was still no match for Tau's pseudo-muscular bionic implants. Even now, the arrogant assassin was cracking her knuckles, advancing on the tiny Pikachu with booted foot aching to squash the rodent.  
  
"Brave little fellow..." she chuckled, placing her hands on her hips. "But you're a little out of your element, aren't you? This is no Pokémon battle..."  
  
"The heck it isn't." The voice surprised Tau; it was the first time Ash had spoken up since her arrival. "Pikachu:" his voice quavered, filled with fatigue, pain, and fear, but somehow Ash managed some semblance of his former composure. "Defensive stance." Pikachu nodded back at Ash, going down on all fours and snarling at Tau ferociously.  
  
"Oh, this is rich." Tau's laughter rang like a mean-spirited bell as she guffawed at the boy and his Pokémon's tiny, pathetic defense. "What, are you honestly going to stop me?"  
  
"Pikachu, Thunderbolt." Ash croaked, scowling as Tau stood there, laughing at them. Taking only a moment to power up, the thunderous rodent let loose with a bolt of pure energy that streaked towards its target at the speed of light...only the target wasn't there anymore. Defying every limit of human speed, Tau had somehow managed to dodge lightning itself, and had made it look considerably easy.  
  
"Is that all you have?" she asked, folding her arms calmly. "You'll have to do better than the same old, tired tricks you've used in the past, boy."  
  
Swallowing his fears, Ash gave her a confident smirk, one he didn't completely feel. "No problem. Pikachu," his mind began racing; if he was going to beat Tau, he was going to have to be smarter and faster. Since the latter wasn't possible, he would really have to work on the former, which meant making use of Ash's least favorite activity, heavy thinking. "Agility Charge!"  
  
Pikachu disappeared in the blink of an eye, moving so fast that none of the on-lookers could follow. Tau could, though, and began moving as fast. Human and Pokémon began a terrible dance, attacking one another. Because of their tremendous speed, neither one was able to land a blow or a bolt of electricity, but still they tried, tearing up the landscape. Every now and then, they would slow down just enough for Ash to catch a glimpse of what they were doing; a headbutt here, blocked by Tau's forearm; a vicious kick that nearly took off Pikachu's tail...  
  
After a moment of eternity, Ash decided to implement part two of the plan that was still forming in his head. "Pikachu! Red Light!"  
  
Pikachu came to a screeching halt, reacting in an instant to Ash's orders and flipping out of the way of Tau's latest attack. The assassin hadn't been expecting a sudden stop, and was forced to let her kick continue all the way through the nearest tree, which toppled over with a sickening thud next to the pair. In the midst of the chaos, she lost track of Ash's oversized mouse.  
  
"Atomic Tick!" Ash shouted again, praying that Pikachu could remain hidden for just another second. As Tau spun about, looking for her prey, Pikachu appeared from behind her, leaping out of the brush and latching on to her back, right between the shoulder blades.  
  
"Get off of me, you wretched little vermin!" Tau snarled, trying to reach around to snatch the rat off of her back. She managed to grab a few fists full of its short, wiry hair, but her iron-hard muscles prevented her from reaching around far enough to detach Pikachu from her back. Pikachu, in the meantime, was holding on for dear life, digging its claws through her ranger's disguise and into her back.  
  
Despite the situation, Ash couldn't help but grin. His grin soon disappeared, however, and he swallowed hard. It was now or never. "Pikachu, Thunder!"  
  
The sky above them crackled, shimmering with a supernatural power as Pikachu's most potent attack began to charge. The clouds swirled, and the heavens opened up, pouring down a stream of pure golden light that slammed down onto Tau and her unwanted passenger. Pikachu, naturally, was unaffected by the enormous bolt of lightning that struck them. Horrified screams pierced the air as every cell in Tau's body burned with electricity, screams that would haunt Ash for a long time. He never enjoyed attacking other humans with his Pokémon, and he had never subjected a single person to Pikachu's Thunder attack.  
  
It was over as quickly as it had begun, lasting only an instant. Pikachu dislodged from Tau's back, letting the smoking assassin's unconscious form drop onto the ground like a smoldering sack of grain. She lay on the ground, twitching and spasming uncontrollably. Pikachu trotted over to Ash, looking slightly guilty but otherwise satisfied with their victory. "Good job, Pikachu." Ash wearily patted his Pokémon on the head, fighting the urge to drop into a deep sleep. "We should be okay, now."  
  
"Wrong." the cold muzzle of Delta's gun pressed painfully against the base of his skull as a dark shadow fell over Ash and Pikachu.  
  
Ash didn't turn around. He saw Brock, Misty, and Dixie, who had managed to collect herself and Ash's Wartortle, freeze in place. It was obvious that they desperately wanted to help him, but knew that they couldn't do anything. Down by his feet, Pikachu was snarling and hissing at Delta, furious with the assassin at this latest turn of events. Ash, however, tried to remain calm. "I saved your life." Ash told him flatly, not moving a muscle. "You owe me." Delta remained silent, but Ash could feel the gun's barrel waver against his neck. "You owe me." he repeated, this time more forcefully.  
  
"Owe?" a cackling voice from the forest laughed at Ash, signaling the return of Team Rocket from their Pidgeot-powered trip. "Team Rocket never pays its debts, boy." Jessie sneered, dragging James and Meowth out into the clearing's edge with a wicked smile planted on her dazzling features. Both of her male counterparts nodded, but each of them looked exhausted, as if they had endured more than enough for today. Ash could easily sympathize with them, though he didn't feel any pity.  
  
"That's okay!" Misty yelled, hopping off of Pidgeot, "We're the ones that owe you something." She locked eyes with Pidgeot for a moment, then gave it a nod. "Pidgeot, Fly attack, now!"  
  
Pidgeot's eyes began to glow with a golden amber radiance, an unnatural light that amazed Ash and frightened Team Rocket. Soon, the light had surrounded Pidgeot's entire body. The Pokémon screeched, spreading its wings and crying out at Jessie, James, and Meowth. Then, without warning, the three villains were surrounded with the same aura. Screaming and fumbling, the treacherous trio was lifted into the air, kicking helplessly against the thin mountain air.  
  
"My turn." Dixie's eyes narrowed on her targets as she spoke. Down by her feet, Ash's Wartortle grunted its agreement, stepping forward to get in on the action. "Wartortle: Surf, now!"  
  
Wartortle leapt ahead, pulling its head and limbs into its thick, heavy shell, landing with a thud on the hard forest floor. Then it began to spin, spraying thick columns of water out of its shell. At first, Ash thought it was merely a Hydro Pump attack. Then he noticed something...the water from Wartortle's attack wasn't disappearing, or soaking into the ground. The water was rippling in mid-air, turning around and gathering under Wartortle.  
  
The water was alive!  
  
Soon Wartortle was spinning atop a massive pile of water, a mountain of the liquid that was writhing and flowing beneath him, held in check by supernatural forces that no one understood. Once the column was as tall as the trees around them, Wartortle stopped his Hydro Pump, coming out of his shell and standing atop his watery tower, king of the aquatic mountain. Its eyes shone with a sapphire light, twin beacons of blue brilliance above his wide, grinning mouth.  
  
"Tortle!" The column suddenly dropped out underneath of Wartortle, sending him splashing down to the ground. Ash feared that Wartortle had somehow lost control, that he had somehow lost the magic. He should have known better, though; hundreds of gallons of water fell to the Earth, forming itself into a small, focused tidal wave that roared across the clearing with Wartortle riding atop it. Horrified, Team Rocket realized all too late what was happening, turning to run just before the wave swept them off of their feet and into the thicket of trees that lay beyond the clearing. Ash's aquatic Pokémon leapt down from the wave just as the three Rockets hit the first of what would be many, many trees in their path.  
  
"Looks like Team Rocket's splashing off again!" Meowth gargled as they sped out of sight, slamming into trees as the tidal wave dragged them through a painful tour of the forest. Ash would have laughed, but he was too amazed at what he had just seen his Pokémon do. Defying gravity? Tidal waves in the middle of a continent? It was impossible, wasn't it? Then he looked over at Dixie, and realized that it had to have been her, that it had been Dixie's Hidden Machines. It was no wonder that Shades and Spike were after them so badly. What power! Ash was so impressed, he hardly noticed that Delta's gun was no longer planted in the back of his head. It was only when he heard a grunting and scraping off to the side that he broke his gaze with Dixie.  
  
Delta stood with his back to Ash, gun holstered and Tau encumbering his shoulder. He began walking off at a quick pace, limping slightly as he did. Though he spoke softly, Ash could hear him saying something as he left.  
  
"Now we're even."  
  
And with that, he disappeared into the forest, vanishing from sight. Somehow, though, Ash knew that it wasn't the last time he would see Delta...not by a long shot. At the moment, though, he didn't care. He simply slumped forwards, falling to his hands and knees. With the adrenaline rush of the battle wearing off, all of the aches and pains, the cuts and fractures and concussions, were coming back in full force. He heard a very distant 'Ash!' Who was saying his name? It sounded like a girl. Dizzily, he looked up at his three friends, accompanied by his three Pokémon, as they crowded around him.  
  
"Are you okay?" Misty's mouth moved, but the words didn't seem to match her lips, and her tiny voice sounded as if it were a million miles from him. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"I must be losing it..." he mumbled back, shaking his head. A thrumming sound of rushing air had filled his ears, blocking out any attempts at thinking he may have had. "I hear something..."  
  
Dixie pointed up at the sky excitedly, sounding just as distant as Misty had. "No, look! Something's coming!"  
  
"Lawrence?" Misty's voice sounded worried, but Ash couldn't be sure. "Did he find us?"  
  
"No!" Brock squinted hard (no small feat for a man who never opened his eyes to begin with), fending off the glaring dawn with his hand. "No, it's a helicopter. It's a chopper! We're saved!"  
  
"Great..." Ash murmured. "I'll just pass out then, all right?" And he did, slumping onto the ground in a heap of aching limbs and exhausted muscles.  
* * *  
  
"Miss, could you please excuse me? I'd like to make sure this boy is going to live."  
  
Misty apologized, and slunk out of the way of Ash's doctor for the millionth time. She had been hovering over Ash's sick bed in the hospital like a hawk, ever since he had underwent the emergency regeneration treatments. The former champion was now in the Intensive Care Unit, though no longer in mortal danger.   
  
The doctors and nurses had been muttering and nattering about fractures and lacerations and shocks to his physiology, but all Misty knew was that Ash was hurt ten times worse than any of them were. Brock had come away smelling like a rose, while Misty and Dixie had only required a few bandages, and some tape for Misty's ribs. Ash, though, needed IV drips and monitoring equipment, and a plethora of other things that his feminine friend couldn't understand.   
Pikachu was curled up and sleeping by his side, refusing to leave even after one of the nurses had attacked him with a bedpan. Ash was awake now, as awake as a person could be on as much painkillers as was physically safe for the doctors to give to him...and give them to him they did!  
  
"This would be much easier if you would get out of the way." the doctor groused, lightly grabbing Ash's wrist and looking down at his watch as he checked Ash's pulse. "Your friend needs his rest."  
  
"She can stay." Ash croaked, his lively amber eyes dulled by the powerful sedatives. "I want her to stay." He looked up at the doctor, his voice sleepy and soft. "I'll be out of here soon anyway, right?"  
  
"Out of here?" the doctor repeated incredulously, "Soon?" He laughed at this, slapping his knee as he chortled. "Oh my, that's rich. You'll be in here until I say you can leave, and not a moment before." He gathered his clipboard and left, still chuckling as he closed the door behind him. "Soon, he says. Oh, Maple will get a kick out of that one."  
  
Misty was all too glad when he left. She sat down on the edge of Ash's bed, taking the hand that wasn't hooked up to the intravenous tube. "Hey."  
  
"Hey..."  
  
She smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze, and was relieved to feel him squeeze back. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt much?"  
  
"Well," he said thickly, as though his tongue had become too large for his mouth, "I think it should hurt..." He lifted his other arm, indicating the IV. "But I think they have me on morphine." He giggled. "A lot of morphine." He started giggling again, which got Misty going. After a moment, though, he stopped, groaning. "I can't believe they're keeping me in here. I'm probably going to lose a whole week of training."  
  
Misty silently berated him, forcing down the urge to tell him to count his lucky stars. Before the development of cellular regeneration, the injuries he had sustained would have slowed him down for several months. "Well, maybe a break won't be so bad." She leaned forward, giving him a kiss on his forehead, letting her lips linger a bit longer than she should. "Get some rest, okay?" He nodded as she got up to leave. As she walked towards the door, it opened from the other side, revealing Dixie as she walked into Ash's room.  
  
"Hi." Dixie greeted her softly. Misty returned her 'hi' in kind, giving Dixie a smile. "I just wanted to pop in for a moment, I won't stay long." The redhead gave her a nod, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her with a soft 'click'. Now it was Dixie's turn to sit at Ash's side. She gave Ash an encouraging smile, being careful not to wake Pikachu as she plopped down on his bed. "Hi Ash."  
  
"Hi..." Ash grinned at her, half-asleep. "How are you?"  
  
"I was just going to ask you the same thing." Dixie rubbed her arm, careful to avoid the bandages the emergency room had put on. There was no easy way of saying it, so she was just going to have to say it. "Um...Ash?"  
  
"Hah?"  
  
"Look, I..." She shifted uncomfortably, her courage betraying her. "Ash...I was so afraid that you were going to die out there...and I wasn't sure why. Then I figured it out..." She smiled at him, taking his hand in hers.  
  
"Figured what out?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I have a thing for you, Ash."  
  
"Really? Where?"  
  
"You idiot, I like you!" She wasn't sure if he was jerking her around or not. The dawning look of realization on his face, though, told her that he was genuinely confused.  
  
"Really?" his face became apologetic in a tired sort of way. "Sorry." There was a long pause, and then he said. "I like you too."  
  
"Really?"  
  
He nodded, giving her hand a sleepy, sloppy kiss. It was cute nonetheless, though. "Uh huh. Could you do me a favor, though?"  
  
"Sure...what?"  
  
He let his head drop back onto the pillow, thoroughly exhausted. "D'you think you could remind me that we had this talk? I'm on a lot of medication right now, and I don't know if I'll remember."  
  
She laughed, leaning over to give him a hug. "No problem."  
* * *  
  
Misty closed the door behind her. Brock was standing out in the hall, waiting for her. He held a pair of Styrofoam cups in his large hands. He handed one to Misty, who took it gratefully and took a long drag of the hot chocolate in the cup.  
  
"So how is he?" Brock asked between sips of coffee. She looked back, watching Dixie talk to him through the small window in the door. "He looks pretty out of it."  
  
"He is," she nodded, still watching the pair, "But he'll be fine."  
  
"You must have been pretty worried."  
  
She whirled her focus back on Brock, her eyebrows upturned with confusion. "What makes you say that?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged, taking another long drink of the Colombian blend. It wasn't nearly as good as Mount Moon's coffee, but it wasn't bad at all. "Well, if the girl I loved had been through what Ash was just through, I'd be worried sick."  
  
Misty felt a wave of anger sweeping through her. Where did Brock get off making all these assumptions? "Listen, you!" she jabbed her free finger at him, poking him in his broad, muscular chest, "I'm sick and tired of you and your stupid...your stupid...oh, I'm just sick of it!" she growled, looking in on Dixie and Ash. The blonde had taken Ash's hand into hers now, and was saying something that clearly made her uncomfortable. "Look, I am not Ash's girlfriend." Now Ash was saying something, something Dixie had laughed at. "I am Ash's good friend. I-" She stopped cold, dropping her cup of cocoa at the sight that heralded her beyond the meshed glass of the door's tiny window.  
  
Dixie was hugging Ash.  
  
Ash was hugging Dixie.  
  
They were hugging.  
  
Misty couldn't believe it. She watched on as Ash and Dixie locked gazes, staring into each other's eyes with a look that Misty had seen before. It was a look she had only seen in Ash's eyes once before. It was the look he used to give her, back when they had been together, when they had been a couple. It was the look...it was 'her' look...and now he was giving it to Dixie.  
  
"Misty?" Brock placed a strong hand on her shoulder, his voice filled with worry and questioning.  
  
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to turn away. There were tears in her eyes, tears she couldn't explain. She wasn't sure if she wanted to explain them. She just stood there for a moment, crying softly, without making a sound.  
  
"I am going to be sick." she sobbed weakly, and flung her arms around Brock's neck. He reeled back in surprise, but wrapped his arms around her waist all the same. He had a feeling that she was going to be crying into his shoulder quite a bit in the days ahead.  
  
End  
  
-Quiet Hindsight-  
As I said above, I hope it was worth the wait. Oh, and I hope that I'm not the only one who appreciated my reference to John Cook's Sev Trek. What can I say, I'm a hopeless Sci Fi geek. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys science fiction, or to anyone who doesn't, either. sev.com.au, or use a search engine.   
  
Next: BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
04- Strength 


	4. Strength

=Author's Note=  
It's been way too long, so I'd like to start by apologizing for taking all this time to publish something new. After doing a quick comparison, I'm pleased (I think) to say that this particular fic steals the title of longest personal story away The Master's Ball. Just remember, if it seems long, that's just because it's so chock full o' goodness. Enjoy!  
  
=Legal Disclaimer=  
If I did own Pokémon, I certainly wouldn't have to publish my works online, now would I? Pokémon and its subsidiaries are all trademarks of Nintendo Inc. and 4 Kids Entertainment, with the exception of a host of Hasbro licensed toys. God bless you and your crazy little critters, gentlemen and ladies!  
  
BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
04- Strength  
  
"This has gone on long enough."  
  
Giovanni sat opposite a tall, nondescript man with wispy brown hair, and deep chestnut eyes that pierced whatever his steely gaze rested upon. Deep beneath Viridian City in the lair of the headmaster of Team Rocket, a worldwide organization bent on the economic conquest and subjugation of the entire planet, his eyes were cast downward, lowered from their usual sweeping search pattern in a mixture of rage and humiliation. For someone of his reputation and skill, this was truly a sign that he was not having the best of days.  
  
"Three assassins were sent in."  
  
It was not a question, but a statement. It was also correct; the man sitting across from Giovanni had sent in three of his agents...three of the top assassins on the planet. One was a swordsman, trained since birth in the shadowy art of the ninja. A tree had felled him (when, ironically, it was usually the other way around), toppled by his own target. Another was an alluring young woman, who had underwent dangerous experimental surgery (at great cost) to replace her weak human muscular system with bionic pseudo-muscular enhancements that gave her the strength of a Machamp. She, too, had been beaten by the target, her own machine-like muscles shorting out after a single attack. The third was like him...nondescript, unassuming, and yet he was the world's finest marksman...  
  
Omega wasn't sure of the third.  
  
Regardless of the third assassin's inexplicable failure, he was shaken to the very core. He would have expected any one of the three to be able to handle a boy not yet old enough to shave more than twice a week. The notion that their own target had not only defeated them, but humiliated themselves and himself, their leader, was completely unacceptable.  
  
"Three assassins failed."  
  
Omega, the creator and commander of the self-named Omega Red, looked up to meet the gaze of his employer. "Yes...sir." He dared not try to make excuses. There were none, after all; how on Earth would anyone believe that a sixteen-year-old boy had defeated a team of world-class mercenaries? "They did, sir."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He kept his voice calm and even, trying desperately to maintain control. It was difficult with Giovanni drumming his fingers pointedly on the mahogany desk. Buffed to a high polish, the surface reflected Team Rocket's leader's scowl back at Omega, giving the illusion of two of him. It was appropriate, given that he was finding himself in double the amount of trouble from just a few weeks before. "It is difficult to say, sir. I have not seen the target up close."  
  
Giovanni leaned forward, resting his chin upon his hands in almost a casual manner. Omega knew perfectly well, though, that there was nothing casual about that man. He could see the fire burning in Giovanni's eyes. It was that fire that had built an empire, that fire that had seen the death of so many different men...  
  
The fire that would surely kill him if he failed again.  
  
"Take a guess...just for fun." Giovanni's gaze didn't flicker one iota, and his voice was a frosted, constant low. Though his words were casual, his manner was anything but.  
  
Clearing his throat, Omega began, "Based on initial analysis of the boy's past and present activities, both in and out of battle situations, and an analysis of his companion's capabilities, compared with the results of our previous missions, I would say that the level of his Pokémon, in addition to his strategic skill, is much higher than we calculated. This, in addition to his uncanny knack for escaping hopeless situations, might explain why we have been unable to eliminate him.  
  
"Hmmm..." Giovanni nodded slowly, processing what Omega had just said. He stood soundlessly, taking slow, measured steps around his polished oak desk and around his office, decorated with some of the finest stolen artwork the world had ever known. "Omega, exactly how much of what you just said was pure Tauros droppings?"  
  
"All of it, sir."  
  
"Then what is the real answer?"  
  
"Blind luck."  
  
At last, Giovanni nodded, a smile spreading slowly on his stony, snakelike features. "That was the answer I wanted to hear, Omega." The smile vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced with one of his patented glares. "Omega, I want the boy dead. No excuses, no failures, no near misses...just dead. I want to see the six o'clock news singing praises of the boy's achievements in life as the funeral dirge plays on." His fist slammed against his desk with each new sentence, both his voice and blows growing with frightening intensity. "I want him DEAD! Not hurt, not scared, DEAD! I want his head sitting on a solid gold platter, ON MY DESK, by tomorrow morning..." he leaned across the desk, his face hovering inches from the assassin's. "...with an expression of horror frozen on his face. Do you understand me?"  
  
Omega nodded slowly. He could feel the heated breath from his employer's flared nostrils rolling across his cheeks, and tried not to blink. Blinking would be taken as weakness, and this was a man who could not tolerate weakness from his subordinates. "I've already deployed Psi, sir. He will rendezvous with your field agents in a matter of hours." Omega's black leather-bound hands curled tightly into fists as his eyes narrowed. "I guarantee, sir; Ashlan Ketchum will be singing a different tune soon enough."  
* * *  
  
"I get no kick from cham-paiiiiiign!"  
  
Ash Ketchum, raven-haired, handsome sixteen-year-old Pokémon training dynamo, former champion of the world's largest and most prestigious Pokémon battle league, and Goddess-anointed guardian of the planet, was beginning to feel just a little put upon. He groaned in frustration and planted his face squarely in his palms, trying to rub the fatigue out of his eyes while avoiding the last remaining bandages wrapped around his forehead and pasted to his cheek. The aches and pains that had accompanied him from his run in with Team Rocket were all but gone, and the regen treatments insured that he wouldn't have any scars. Still, his body hadn't forgotten the beating that he had given it, and it was definitely payback time.  
  
"Mere alcohol, it doesn't move me at all!"  
  
The Greyhoundour bus that he was currently trapped on was still an hour away from Bluster, their next stopover in Ash's American tour, and he could feel his stomach lurch with every bounce. The three cheeseburgers he had eaten six hours ago were threatening to come back up they way they came down, which didn't improve his mood at all. He should have known better than to eat so many cheeseburgers for breakfast, but neither the warnings of his friends, nor his own woefully-underdeveloped common sense had been enough to dissuade him from a "six for five bucks" deal at Burgerland.   
  
All in all, it wasn't the best time to attempt delicate electrical repairs, especially since he didn't have a clue how to start. Worse still, his Pokédex was making things ten times as hard. Dexter's love of classic show tunes and old lounge songs had become not only more apparent, but also magnified, after he had been damaged in the fight with Lawrence.   
  
"So tell me why should it be truuuuue?"  
  
If they were still on the island, Ash would simply have taken the wayward device to Professor Oak, and he would have gotten the 'Dex back, better than new, within half an hour, probably with a lollipop to boot. As it was, he was lost; he had no idea how to fix a complex palmtop computer. He had enough trouble operating the Pokédex, and it practically ran itself after the AI program designed by Westwood the Fifth had slipped in with the last batch of upgrades.  
  
"Pika?" Pikachu sat atop his shoulder, peering down as its trainer tried to fix the broken exocomputer with minimal success. "Pika. Pi, pikachu. Pi?" it cooed mournfully, gripping Ash's arm with its claws as it leaned over.  
  
"No," Ash shot back more harshly than he actually meant to, "I haven't fixed him yet, Pikachu. I don't know how."   
  
"That I get a 'kick', kick out of-"  
  
Disgusted, he flipped the Pokédex off and stashed him back in his black Silph Co. jacket. "I don't get it...I've been trying for the past two weeks to fix him, and nothing seems to work."  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't have tried dunking him underwater..." a bulked-up young man sitting next to him quipped, giving Ash a grin. He possessed arms like small, well-defined tree trunks, with medium brown skin that women went wild over. It was almost too bad that his personality, when in proximity to a remotely attractive woman, was unbelievably abrasive. It was almost as if he had a kind of sixth sense for beautiful women that sent his brain into shutdown...which wasn't a pretty sight.  
  
Ash turned to give Brock Stone, his best friend and surrogate big brother, a withering glare. "Look, I thought it would clean him out, okay? How was I to know that his transistors would blow?" He tugged his hat down tighter on his head and folded his arms dejectedly. "I didn't even know what transistors were until I asked Gear where the black smoke was coming from."  
  
"Haven't been doing your homework again, have you, Ash?" His redheaded companion leaned over from the pair of seats behind him and Brock, grinning. "Let's review Remedial Science 101, shall we? What happens when we mix electrical components and water?"  
  
"Shut up, Misty."  
  
She grinned. "It's also called the 'toaster in the bathtub' principle." As much as she teased, though, Misty felt guilty and partially responsible for Dexter's condition after their rumble with Lawrence and the Team Rocket assassins. After all, if she hadn't been caught by Lawrence's mechanical monster, Archimedes, then Ash would still have his electronic advisor in working order.  
  
All guilt for her young companion evaporated, however, when the girl sitting next to Misty leaned forward as well, an expression of sympathy on her delicate features. She patted Ash on the cheek, giving it a quick peck of her lips. "It's okay. I'm sure we'll be able to fix him sooner or later." This brought a small smile to Ash's face as he reached around and took the hand of Dixie Mason, his newest girlfriend, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  
  
Ignoring the pang of jealousy that emerged, Misty pulled out her bag from beneath her seat and began to rummage through it. "You know, Ash, if you really want to fix Dexter, maybe you should take a look at his operating manual."  
  
"Dexter has an operating manual?"  
  
She nodded, reaching down into the very bottom-most depths of the bag. "Sure. I grabbed it from your house before we left. Don't you remember?" She pulled it out with a small cry of triumph, tossing it over the seat. It was a small book, comparable to a pocket dictionary, with just as many big words in very tiny print. "You were using it to balance out your coffee table."  
  
Ash nodded sheepishly, in truth not remembering it at all. He opened the cover of the small book and strained his eyes to read. "Congratulations on the purchase of your Pokémon Database/Experimental eXocomputer, model DEX IV (Patent Pending). The Pokédex blah blah blah blah blah, basic scanning functions, blah blah blah blah blah, identification of new species, yada yada yada..."  
  
As Ash poured over the comprehensive manual, Brock craned his neck to see out the bus's windshield, trying to catch a glimpse of the towering skyscrapers of the Windy City. "Any idea of what kind of gym is in Bluster?" he asked Dixie, turning back to her with squinted eyes.  
  
She shook her head. "I always did most of my training near the East Coast, so I could stay near my grandfather's lab..." her voice cracked ever so slightly at the memory, but she pushed it away. "The Midwest is just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. All I know is, the Itemfinder was pointing this way for the next Hidden Machine. As soon as we reach a hotel, I want to take another-"  
  
She was cut off when a terrific explosion of air blasted at her side. The gust was strong enough to knock the hat from Ash's head, as well as Pikachu from his jacketed shoulder. Brock's sharpened hair, usually solid and steady as any mountain, was blown straight into his squinted eyes.  
  
Misty sniffed, rubbing her nose sheepishly. "Excuse me," she sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Didn't know I had it in me..."  
  
"What, you mean a hurricane?" Ash bent down, retrieving both his Pikachu and his wayward hat from the filthy bus floor. "Are you coming down with something again?"  
  
"Again? What do you mean?" she huffed, half out of indignation, and half because, truth be told, she was having a hard time breathing. "I've never been sick a day in my life."  
  
"Yes you have!" Ash shot back, spinning around to meet her glare with his own as Brock and Dixie tried to straighten their windblown hair. "There was that one time, 'bout three years back-"  
  
"I had an itchy nose, that's all! Stop making such a big deal out of it."  
  
"You had a fever of a hundred and two!"  
  
"It was hot that day, and Brock insisted that I wear that stupid blanket!"  
  
"Hey!" Brock tried to interject, but as with most of his friends' fights, he wasn't able to get a word in edgewise. He exchanged helpless looks with Dixie as Ash and Misty continued their squabbling, leaving poor Pikachu to act as referee in their tussle.  
  
"Just you wait!" Misty folded her arms defiantly, "By the time we check in to the hotel, you'll be saying, 'Misty, how do you keep yourself so darn healthy?'."  
* * *  
  
"WA-CHOO!"  
  
Brock shook his head, standing over the bed-ridden redhead, keeping his distance from her as she coughed, hacked, croaked, wheezed, sniffled, snorted, dripped, squeaked, creaked, groaned, and moaned. He was trying to keep a straight face and doing a very poor job of it. Since reaching the hotel only two hours ago, Misty had only gotten worse. It had started as just some mild sneezing, but had then grown into a full-blown head cold. Brock wasn't sure if their supply of complimentary tissues would hold out much longer. "Misty, how did you get so darn sick?"  
  
"Cram ib where duh sun don'b shine, Spike-head." Misty forced the words out of her frog-ridden throat, reaching for a tissue generously offered by Brock's hand. She let loose with a foghorn blast into the thin, soft paper, trying desperately to clear her sinuses. "Oh God, I dink my head is goi'b do cave in..."  
  
"Well, I'll just leave you then...after all, people who are sick should-"  
  
"I'm NOB sick!" she wailed, falling back onto her pillow with a sob. "I jusb have a libble dusb in my node from duh bus ribe."  
  
"You know, you talk funny when you're sick."  
  
"I'm nob sick."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"No I'm nob."  
  
Brock reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small brown paper bag. He set it down on Misty's nightstand, giving the sack a loving pat, and Misty a brilliant smile. "Okay, listen; I'm going to leave this here."  
  
"Whab is ib?"   
"I picked up some anti-histamines, some cough syrup, a couple of painkillers for the headache, and an herbal sedative that'll have you sleeping like a baby all night." He gave her a friendly wink, poking her on the tip of her ruby-red nose, rubbed raw by the poor quality tissues of the hotel. "I don't want you waking Dixie up every ten minutes because you're sick-"  
  
"I'M NOB SICK!"  
  
He heaved one last sigh as he left, closing the door gently behind him. Misty breathed as softly as she could, straining her ears for any lingering signs of Brock. As soon as she was sure he had actually left, she made a mad grab for the bag, ripping it open and prying at the cover to the anti-histamines as if they were pills of eternal life.  
  
To Misty's horror, the door creaked open, allowing Brock's square head to pop in. Frantically, Misty shoved the medicine, bag and all, underneath the covers. "Misty..." Brock started.  
  
"WHAB?" she shrieked. Then, forcing her heart rate back down, she repeated in a much more calm voice, "Whab?"  
  
"Don't take them all at once, okay?" he winked at her, then ducked his head back through the door to avoid the hard plastic of the bottle of sedatives that Misty hurled at him. The bottle banged loudly on the cracked paint of the wooden motel door and fell to the floor, unbroken.  
  
"Lousy, stupid know-ib-all..." Misty grumped, trying once again to pry open the medicines.  
* * *  
  
Ash winced, trying to screw up his resolve. This wasn't going to be easy, but he had to do it. "Okay, Ash...It's all right. You can handle this."  
  
"Pika?" Pikachu tugged on his pant leg, looking up at him with large, dark, limpid eyes. "Pika, pi pikachu..." It scampered up his leg, across his back and onto his shoulder, looking at its trainer's twisted face. "Pika."  
  
"No, it's okay, Pikachu." Ash assured him, "I can handle this." He took several more deep breaths, then, slowly, excruciatingly, reached into the wallet sitting in his hands, and withdrew the money he owed the hotel for the two rooms. The clerk gave him a raised eyebrow, but accepted the cash without comment. Gasping, Ash bent over and rested his palms on his knees, as if winded from running a race.  
  
"God, that looked painful." Dixie quipped from behind, walking up to join him at the counter. She let a copy of Pokémon Trainer's Monthly drop to her side, giving her beau a loving pat on the back. "You okay, sweetie?"  
  
"I swear, this budget gets harder and harder to work with every month." He tugged at the black Silph Co. jacket that rested on his shoulders. He had never liked the black Silph jacket as much as his trusted blue League jacket, which he had left behind with his mother in Pallet Town. It never fit properly, and was too warm at times, or not warm enough at others. It was ugly, and made him look like a punk. He wasn't a punk! "Sometimes I wish I had never taken that campaigning job with Silph..."  
  
"Believe me, Mr. Ketchum, there are some who feel the same way."  
  
The voice came from directly at his back, and caused all three of them to jump. Ash, Dixie, and Pikachu whirled around, coming face to face with a total stranger. He was short, shorter than either of the teens, with a large, glossy, balding head, a pair of thin, flashing spectacles, narrow, appraising eyes, and a neat, spotless black business suit. "Good day, Mr. Ketchum. May I please have a moment of your time?" he inquired in a strong, nasal voice, removing the glasses and hooking them onto his sport coat as he spoke.  
  
"That depends." Ash stated flatly, grabbing hold of his shouldered Pikachu to keep the Pokémon from flying at the interloper. Already, his Pika-pal was sparking at the cheeks, a sign that this was not a man to trust, nor like. "Who are you, and what do you want?"  
  
The man allowed himself a tiny, tight-lipped smile, the kind that no humor existed behind. "Indeed. My name is Alistair McAlistair," he produced a business card seemingly from thin air, handing it to Ash as if expecting the boy to encase it in hospital-grade Lucite and place it on an engraved plaque, commemorating the moment. "I am Silph Co.'s chief representative of marketing and sales."  
  
"How do we know you are who you say you are?" Dixie scowled at the tiny suit, daring him to prove himself. After the past few months, she had grown to become very distasteful of men in black suits. "We need some proof."  
  
The man nodded, and pointed to the magazine, still clutched in Dixie's fingers. "I believe," he harrumphed with an air of superiority, "That you will find what you need on page sixty-eight, column two, the second picture from the left.  
  
Curious, Dixie thumbed through the magazine, then elbowed Ash as she reached the appropriate page. Both Ash and Pikachu leaned over to see, on page sixty-eight, column two, in the second picture from the left-hand side, the small bespectacled man in the exact same business suit, seen at a press conference. He was smiling his same humorless smile, shaking hands with none other than Ash's worst nemesis (discounting all megalomaniacs and evil demon Pokémon). Dixie read the caption aloud; "Alistair McAlistair, representative of the Silph Corporation, seen here with Indigo League champion Garret Oak, at a conference announcing the renewed sponsorship of the Indigo League by Silph Co." She exchanged glances with Ash, shaking her head. "I guess he's on the level."  
  
"Quite." McAlistair cleared his throat noisily, indicating that Ash should follow him. As Ash and Pikachu followed him across the lobby, suspicion seeped into Dixie's gaze. This suspicion grew when McAlistair threw a glance at Pikachu, then at Ash. Reluctantly, Ash nodded to Pikachu, who gave the suit one last snarl before padding over to Dixie. Dixie glared to no avail, harrumphing and tossing her hair as the stranger she had just met left to peruse with her sweetie. Pikachu acted in much the same manner, tossing its ears and fizzling at the cheeks, its glossy eyes spraying invisible bolts of death at McAlistair.  
  
"Boy," Brock quipped as he walked up behind the two, who were tossing, snorting and glaring, "Somebody got you guys worked up. I haven't seen this much anger in a room since William Shatner called all those Sev Trek nerds 'pathetic'. What's up?"  
  
"Over there," Dixie chucked her thumb in the direction of the departed pair, turning to greet their companion, chief cook, and bottle washer. "Ash's talking to some grand poobah from the Silph Corporation, or something."  
  
"Silph?" Brock was intrigued. He studied the man carefully, noticing a certain, passing familiarity about the stranger. "Hmm..."  
  
"What is Silph, anyway?"  
  
"Huh?" His concentration momentarily broken, Brock turned to answer Dixie's questioning gaze. "Silph is a multi-billion dollar global corporation that holds almost a monopoly on many parts of the world as far as Pokémon equipment goes. Right now they're neck and neck with another company from the island; Giovanni International Incorporated." He glanced over at Ash, his brow furrowing. "Ash signed on with them as a spokesperson...I think they were hoping it would give them the edge over GII to have such a well known personality, but..."  
  
Dixie scooped an uncomplaining Pikachu into her arms, stroking the yellow, furry critter as it rumbled in satisfaction against her chest. "I have a bad feeling about this..."  
* * *  
  
"You're cutting my funding!" Ash struggled to keep the cry quiet, but he feared needlessly that his friends could still hear him over the din of the lobby. It's not like anyone could blame him. He couldn't believe it! After all this time, without hearing a single thing from these people, they were going to swoop down and cut him off. The nerve!  
  
McAlistair raised his palms, his face spreading into an uncharacteristic grin. "Peace, Mr. Ketchum, peace."  
  
"Just Ash, please."  
  
McAlistair continued on as if he had never heard him. "Mr. Ketchum, we aren't about to do anything as drastic as cutting your funding."  
  
"Whew, that's a re-"  
  
"We are, however, considering the notion of cutting your funding."  
  
"Crap."  
  
"Indeed." He pulled out a small black book, unhooking his pair of rectangular spectacles from his jacket. He placed the specs on his nose, and flipped the book open. "Mr. Ketchum, this book contains the various commercials, public appearances, and word-of-mouth boons that you have thus far provided to our corporation." He handed to book off to Ash, whisking his spectacles off and tapping them deftly on the smooth, black leather binding. "I would like you to take a look at them, if you would be so kind."  
  
Ash opened the book with a shrug, flipping through the pages. "There's nothing here but blank paper."  
  
"Precisely our point!" McAlistair snatched the book away, tucking it back into his jacket. "Now, perhaps you could explain to me why it is our company should be providing you with the generous amount of backing you currently receive without any benefits to show for?"  
  
"Generous?" Ash scoffed, regarding the man as a hobo might regard his mugger. "You think that pitiful allowance is generous?" He jabbed a finger at the ceiling, his eyes narrowing and voice clouding with anger. "Right now I have a sick friend upstairs in a cheap motel room that we had to dip into our own meager funds to pay for. We bought her some medicine using up most of the month's food money. Where's all this generosity I keep hearing you talk about?"  
  
"The amount is not in negotiation right now, Mr. Ketchum." McAlistair insisted, astonished and insulted by this boy's audacity to demand more money when he should be begging for what he got now. "What currently hangs in the balance is the question of whether or not Mr. Silph continues to sign your paycheck."  
  
Ash's finger shook furiously as he jabbed it at the corporate tool. His mouth opened and closed, but words appropriate for a properly edited fanfiction failed the teenager.  
  
"I take that to mean that you are willing to reconsider our business arrangement?"  
* * *  
  
"What's he saying, Meowth?"  
  
A trio with greater oddity surrounding them would be hard to find than Team Rocket; Jessie and James sat across the lobby in a set of soft, buttery leather armchairs. James was dressed in the robes of a Tibetan monk, complete with balding cap and small, golden glasses (frames only) perched on his nose. Jessie, naturally, had taken a one-eighty on his approach, wearing a black maid's dress that was several sizes too small ("but it fit me when I was fifteen...what, you don't think it fits now?"). She had also tried to duplicate the accent, which was driving her partners up the wall.  
  
"Come on..." Jessie growled, tugging on the leash they had wrapped around his neck to avoid suspicion. Unfortunately for them, that was all that their disguises brought them. "Vaht's he saying, hairball?"  
  
"Will you two pipe down?" Meowth squawked, squinting at Ash's tiny face. "Dis isn't easy."  
  
James frowned, wrinkling the bald cap. "I thought you said you could read lips..."  
  
"I assumed I could."  
  
"Vaht?"  
  
Meowth turned, abandoning the hopeless, fruitless waste of time. He may have been able to teach himself how to read, write, and speak, but lip-reading was going to take a lot more time and energy...and who had the time or energy for that? They could just buy some kind of bug, or something. "Hey, it sounded easy enough."  
  
James leapt forward, wrapping his fingers around Meowth's slender throat and squeezing, hauling the cat into the air and shaking him. "You lousy little flea trap, I'm going to kill you!"  
  
"James!" Jessie snatched Meowth from James' grip, gently cradling the gasping Pokémon. "Don't be foolish...your hands aren't nearly strong enough to do the job right." With that, she began choking the cat herself, joined in a moment later by James.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, children..." a strong, sultry voice intoned from behind the trio, stopping them in mid-assault (much to the relief of their Pokémon companion). Turning, they saw an elderly gentleman, bespectacled and carrying a polished wooden cane. He was leaning against the walking aid, chuckling softly at the sight. Next to his feet was a large, battered antique steamer trunk, covered from base to handle with stickers from all over the world. "Jessie and James...two of my most brilliant students. You never did quite grasp the concept of subtlety, though, did you?"  
  
Each of the Rockets went white as a sheet, letting the forgotten cat drop to the ground. "M-m-m-m..." Was all that James could manage. His jaw hit the floor and his eyes grew wide as saucers.  
  
"M-m-m..." Jessie stammered. After a few good swallows, she finally found suitable choices from her otherwise limited vocabulary. "M-master P-p-p-psi!"  
  
"At your service, Jessie dear." The old man stooped in an impromptu bow. "Now, where is this young Ketchum lad I have been hearing so much about?" His eyes wandered the room, finally coming to rest on a corner of the lobby. "Ah, there he is. Hmmm..." he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, examining the trainer from head to toe. "I can't say that he looks like much...but we know very well that looks can be deceiving, do we not?"  
  
"Yes, Master Psi!" James found his voice, standing tall in a posture that ill-suited his monk disguise. "We are at your disposal, sir!" His bald wig began to slip off, but he managed to catch it and slap it back onto his head with frantic hands.  
  
"Sir, ready, willing, and able, sir!" Jessie added.  
  
"What are you two talking about?" Meowth demanded, eyeballing the newcomer. "He don't look like no Rocket master! He's just some old geezer, dat's all!"  
  
In less time than it takes to tell about it, the man's hand was wrapped around Meowth's throat. Though hidden within his sleeves, a pair of glinting, curved blades was very clear to the cat Pokémon's sharp eyes, the points hanging mere centimeters from his soft, oh-so-cute flesh. Meowth yelped pathetically, sweating as the old man smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"A mastery of disguise is but one of my bag of tricks. Understood, my talking friend?" Meowth nodded lamely, prompting Psi to release him. "Now, come, my students. We have a job to do, and any good job requires a lot of planning, some skill, and perhaps a little luck to expedite the process." With that, the old man led them through the maze of people towards the exit, off to prepare perilous perpetration for their pubescent nemesis with James left to lug along his heavy trunk.  
Little known to them, however, was that their exit was observed by a pair of unremarkable men with remarkable abilities, blending in to the crowd with their dark black suits. The men barely acknowledged the Rockets, but did not discount them entirely. Considering how much trouble they had caused the "operation" in the last few months, it was worth keeping them as a factor in their plans.  
And, oh, what plans they had...  
* * *  
  
"So..." Ash said through gritted teeth, trying to squash every impulse his boiling rage broadcasted to his clenched fists, "How would you like me to begin 'living up to my end of the deal,' as you put it?"  
  
McAlistair's eyes lit up at the thought of Ash's compliance, which annoyed the trainer to no end. The suit dug through his briefcase, tossing aside charts, graphs, and all sorts of things Ash could only assume were documents that only corporate weasels would give a Ratticate's patootie about. Finally, he pulled out a small pamphlet and practically forced it into Ash's hands. "Here!" he said excitedly, "This is the local gym, where trainers go to earn their Galebadge." Before Ash could even open the folded paper, the corporate exec snatched it from him and replaced it in his case. "I'll set up a press event. You can beat the gym leader with your usual level of unorthodox training methods and battle tactics, then proclaim to the whole world that Silph brand products are what got you where you are today."  
  
"But that's..."  
  
"Truth in advertising is such an antiquated notion, Mr. Ketchum." McAlistair snapped his briefcase shut, latching it with a flick of his prim, manicured finger. "I suggest you update your mindset, and prepare to smile for the cameras at three o'clock sharp. Good day." With that, he spun on his heel and sauntered off stiffly, his polished shoes clicking on the dusty floor.  
  
Grumbling, Ash strode back to the counter, giving Brock and Dixie a nod in greeting as he took his Pokémon back from the southerner's arms. At her questioning look, he shook his head, placing Pikachu up on his shoulder. The electric mouse gripped the bill of his reversed hat as its trainer led the way back up to the stairs.  
  
"Ash," Dixie drawled, "What in tarnation was that all about?"  
  
He growled over his shoulder at the waning hindquarters of the suited whelp of a man. "A lot of trouble, Dix..." Brock took in a breath to offer his opinion, but Ash cut him short with a sharp, twisted look. "God, I don't need this right now..."  
  
An idea suddenly entered Dixie's head, one that had been bottled up for days upon days within thoughts of their busy schedule. Now, however, might be the right time to spring it on Ash. She leaned over and began whispering into his ear, smiling brightly. And, slowly but surely, a smile not unlike hers began to blossom on his face as well.  
* * *  
  
A soft groaning erupted from the mountain of miserable bedding that had once called itself Mysterious Waterflower as a series of loud knocks pounded all the way from its hotel door and into the base of its buried skull. With a Herculean effort, the mound produced a baggy-eyed, droopy-haired head that managed to moan a pathetic greeting to the door's hidden guest.  
  
Ash peeked in carefully, unsure whether or not Misty was fit for visitors. "Hey, bright-eyes." He grinned, stepping into the room. His eyes swept over their conglomerated bags, brightening when they spotted his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he began to dig through the bag.  
  
"I feel fibe." She wheezed, coughing into the blankets. He drew in a breath to ask a follow-up question, but she cut him short. "Ab yes, I did take dat stupid medicibe dat Brock gabe me, so shub up."  
  
"Far be it for me to question the great and glorious Ms. Waterflower on the subject of her own health." He received a projectile pillow to the back of the head for the crack, but he could see the smile on her face without even looking at her. After their years together, Ash knew that nothing interested Misty more than a verbal battle of wits. "Well, hang tight and let the medicine work its magic, huh? I should be back in a few hours if things go well."  
  
"Where are you goi'b?" she sniffed, popping another of her various pills into her mouth. "Ab where's Pikachu?"  
  
"He's waiting for me downstairs with Dix and Brock," he answered, still digging through his pack. "We're going to head out to the local gym. Some guy from Silph came by and..." he stopped short. The last thing Misty needed was to worry about their funding problems right now. He had never seen her this sick, and it was beginning to worry him (though his stubborn pride would never let him admit to it, just as Misty's stubborn pride would never let her admit just how sick she felt). "Well, don't worry about tha-What do you think you're doing?"  
  
Misty was already up and out of bed, pathetically trying to stagger her way over to Ash. "I'b goi'b with you, whab does ib look like?" her nasal voice insisted. She reached into her pack and began putting on layer after layer, trying to keep warm against the invisible chill that had attacked her the moment she set foot outside of the warm, safe bed. "Jusb gibe me fibe minubes."  
  
"I'll give you a hundred and twenty of them." He tore the sweatshirts and long sleeves out of her hands and began to forcibly undress her. She tried to fight him, but her weak, feeble blows didn't even faze him. "Misty! Will you-"  
  
"Leb me go, you-"  
  
"Look, I'm doing this for your-ow!-your own good, and-"  
  
"Leb me go or I'll screab rabe, you liddle-"  
  
Despite herself, though, Misty's own legs gave out from under her, and she felt herself falling. Ash leapt forward instinctively, catching her with outstretched arms before she could fall onto the filthy thin-carpet floor in a heap. Though she hated him for it, she was truly grateful for his help. Standing there, with her head on his-  
  
Wait a minute...  
  
"Ash..." she whispered softly, bringing herself up to her full height with his help. She was in a state of shock as she stared at his chin...while looking straight ahead. "Ash...when dib you geb to be taller thab me?"  
  
The revelation floored Ash just as much as it had Misty. He looked down...for the very first time, he looked down at Misty's eyes. Sure enough, the top of her head was level with the bridge of his nose. He could see over the top of her wiry, wild red hair as he held her close against his chest. "I...I don't know..." He hadn't noticed the development with all the excitement that had happened before...it really just wasn't one of those things a person kept a close watch on. For both of them, though, it was strange and alien. One of the things Ash held onto in the ever-changing world was that Misty was someone to look up to-not just figuratively, though heaven knows he had always strived to be as cunning and determined as she was-but physically, as well. It was nothing world shattering...but it was disconcerting.  
  
"I think I neeb to lie dowb..." she groaned. Swiftly, he brought her to the bedside, laying her down gently onto the sheets. "Thank you, Ash..." her hoarse voice was not but a whisper now as her strength left her. Even now, she could feel the room fading away from her, try though she might to cling to her consciousness.  
  
"No problem." He returned to his bag, and finally extracted the items he was looking for; his Pokédex, and its manual. "Here." He tossed the items onto the foot of the bed. "If you insist on helping...and knowing you, you do...then after your nap, you can take a look at these."  
  
Misty was well beyond hearing Ash at that point. The second her head had made contact with the pillows, she had begun to fall into a state of deep slumber. "Oh-kay," she murmured with a dreamy smile splayed across her rose petal lips.  
  
He sat down at her bedside, smiling at her. It was times like these, when she wasn't yelling, or criticizing, or fighting with him, that he truly felt lucky to have her in his life. After all that they had been through together, he doubted he could even imagine things without her. It was a good feeling. "When I get back," he promised, "The first thing I'll do is come up here and see how you're doing, and show you my new badge. Okay?"  
  
"Really?" a smile of her own dawned on her sleepy features.  
  
"Cross my heart," he assured her with a pat on her head. "We can even watch that horrible Fox show they're doing about me before I have to go out."  
  
"Where are you goi'b tonighb?"   
Misty was running on autopilot, and it was doubtful that she was even registering any of what Ash was saying. Still, Ash had forgotten to mention it, even though he and Dixie had discussed it only a few minutes ago. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn't I? Dixie and I have a date tonight."  
"Thab's nice." She rolled over as he tiptoed out of the room. "Goodnighb, Ash..." she murmured, then added unconsciously, "I lub you."  
The words made him stop in his tracks. Love him? Misty hadn't said that since...well, it was probably just because she was tired. Did she really-? No, it wasn't possible. She didn't know what she was saying. And even if she did, she didn't mean it like...well, like that. Did she?  
He paused for only a second; whether she was just sick or not, he doubted that the words meant what he...thought...they might mean. Besides, he didn't have time to deal with...'that'. "I lub you too, Misty." He closed the door as quietly as he could, letting Misty drift off into a world of her own, where everything was just right.  
* * *  
  
Master Psi, this time dressed in a casual pair of slacks and a black T-shirt, and lugging his familiar steamer trunk. He, along with the Team Rocket trio (now attired in their familiar uniforms), stood atop one of Bluster's many high-rises, looking over the cement lip of the building at the people several stories below. Psi loved the angle; he thought it aptly appropriate that the common folk remain below him, appearing similar in stature to ants. That was all they were, really; common, laboring insects. They were completely unenlightened, completely oblivious to the higher workings of their world around them.  
  
Perhaps, one glorious day, he could at last rejoin them in ignorance, leaving behind his life of adventure for something simpler...something more peaceful. Yes, his retirement years looked better to his aching bones each and every year...  
  
"Master? Master Psi?"  
  
Jessie's musical voice brought him back to the present with a jolt. Slowly, he turned to survey her and James' handiwork with a critical eye. From the look of things, they had assembled the rooftop rig flawlessly; it seemed ready, at a moment's notice, to fling a net from the skyline and entrap a helpless pedestrian of their choosing. Meowth was making the final preparations, attaching the net to the compound steel cable.  
  
"Well done, my students, well done indeed." He nodded in approval, pushing his spectacles up further on his nose. "Well done indeed." He had to be more careful from now on. In his old age, he was becoming quite introspective. Better to leave the spacing-out for after the mission, once they had already killed their target. "Now, all that's left to do is to wait." He set his trunk down next to him, planting himself on the edge with a groan of relief; his feet had already begun to ache.  
  
"But Master," James, beneath the arm of the net cannon, was giving its bolts a final tightening. He sat up to face the master of disguise, cracking his head on the stainless steel rig on the first and second attempts. Rubbing his head in agony, he started again, "Master, how do we know that the twerp will pass right below here?"  
  
"Yeah!" Meowth blurted. He hadn't trained under the venerable Rocket agent, and therefore lacked the respect that his two teammates showed. From his perspective, Meowth couldn't even see why they were bothering with the old man. "It's not like dat ting has a real big range or anyting. What makes you so sure da twerps'll come by here?"  
  
"Ah, my young, feline friend," Psi graced him with a small smile, one that stretched his wrinkled face in a seemingly unnatural way, "It is simple to one with the wisdom, intelligence, and proper respect for one's enemy."  
  
"Hah?"  
  
His smile disappeared as he continued. "While my cohorts among Omega Red have been whiling away the hours trying to kill the boy any way they can, without an iota of foresight in their efforts." He couldn't help but shake his head, muttering about the travesty of youth being wasted on the young. "I, in the meantime, have been carefully studying the very nature of that we seek to destroy."  
  
"I see!" Jessie stood, clapping in delight at her own perceived intelligence. "You memorized that Ketchum brat's psychological profile, and used it to determine the most likely path he would take through the city based on his deepest fears, his most inner desires, the conflict between his id and his superego-"  
  
"She's one to talk about superego," James whispered to Meowth, who chuckled. They both received a dirty look from Jessie, but she wouldn't dare go off on a rampage in front of her master, which made James and Meowth the luckiest pair of males on the planet.  
  
Psi shook his head. "Actually, my dear, I merely had to take one of his habits into account." He checked his watch, nodding in self-satisfaction. "You see, it's currently half-past one, and I know for a fact that the boy hasn't eaten in hours. Therefore, it was a simple matter to find the street that featured the most abundant, most convenient, and most importantly, cheapest food available."  
  
The three Rockets stared at him blankly for several moments of disbelieving silence. Psi chose to enjoy the quiet while it lasted. When one killed people for a living, things were very rarely quiet. He had come to accept that the tortured screams of another came with the territory, but had never truly liked it. 'Ah, well,' he thought, 'There will be plenty of time for quiet when I retire.'  
  
"Is dis guy for real?" Meowth murmured as quietly as he could to his companions. "He's gotta be nuts or someting!"  
  
"Just watch and see, cat." Psi overheard him, despite Meowth's obvious attempts at keeping the comment guarded. "Just watch and see."  
* * *  
  
"Oh, God," Dixie tugged at Ash's arm, the one not shouldering a Pikachu, as he made a move towards another street vendor. This time, it was a pretzel wagon featuring wares of less-than-dubious quality. The low quality of the vendors hadn't seemed to slow down Ash's metabolism, though, as she had watched him mow through a hot dog and a slice of pizza without stopping to breathe. Between him and Pikachu, she was beginning to believe that they were never going to reach the gym. "Will you stop listening to your stomach for just five minutes?"  
  
"Hey!" Ash tugged back, trying to get his arm out of her ensnaring grasp. "It's been five and a half minutes since we hit the hot dog guy, thank you very much. Now come on, Pikachu and I hear the call of rich, twisted bready goodness. Right, partner?"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu ran across Ash's shoulders and began thumping on Dixie's grip with his tiny claws, trying to get her to let go. "Pi, chu pikachu!"  
  
Brock looked down at his watch, shaking his head. "He's right. Leave it to Ash to time himself between meals." Then again, he thought to himself, he had just timed it as well. Who was sadder? Shaking off the disturbing thought, he said, "She has a point, though. If we keep this up, the gym will be closed before we get halfway there."  
  
"And if I don't keep this up," Ash countered, pulling hard enough to drag Dixie along with him towards the vendor, "I'll waste away before we get halfway there. Therefore, the pretzel side wins." He pulled his protesting burden over to the large, mustached man by the stand and began to haggle with him.  
  
Though she squawked and complained, Brock could easily see the laughter in Dixie's eyes and hear it in her voice. He couldn't help but see just how alike she and Misty were, especially when it came to yelling at Ash. It was no wonder the two of them felt a mutual attraction...  
  
And his thoughts continued on like this until something reached down from the heavens and pulled him skyward before he could utter a sound.  
  
Ash, returning with a pair of twisted brown treasures for himself and Pikachu (who was undoubtedly going to get sick on all this food Ash was feeding it), couldn't help but laugh as Dixie swatted him across the shoulder. "Hey, Brock," he chuckled at the ire of his girlfriend, "You want a bite of my...Brock?"  
  
"Where'd he go?" Dixie's head swiveled on her neck as she stood on her tiptoes to try and spy the spiky-headed, wayward friend. "He was just here a moment ago." It was strange...as if something had just snatched him up.  
  
"Ah, don't worry about him," Ash scoffed, taking an abnormally large bite out of the pretzel without gagging. "Brock probably saw some pretty lady. Trust me, there's nothing Brock likes better than a pretty face."  
* * *  
  
Jessie's pretty face nearly split as she grinned at the struggling package in their possession. Though she couldn't see through the opaque plasteel of the net, there was no doubt in her mind that they had finally done it. After all, it had been her steady hand and sharp eye that had been guiding the net launcher, hadn't it? "Oh my God!" she squealed, grabbing James and Meowth by their hands and dancing with them around the muffled screams of their prisoner, "We finally did it!"  
  
"We caught Pi-dah, I mean, da squirt!" Meowth sang. "Oh, whadda glorious day dis is!"  
  
Psi allowed the tomfoolery to continue for a few seconds, and then cleared his throat noisily. "Children, do not forget; we aren't finished yet." He toed the package carefully, watching it thrash about at his slightest touch. If Psi had any weakness at all, it was his burning sense of curiosity. Try as he might, he could not shake the desire to see just what it was about this pipsqueak of a trainer that made it so important to Giovanni that he be killed...and more importantly, just what it was about him that made him so difficult to kill.  
  
James tugged experimentally on the sacked-out, squirming prisoner. "He's a lot heavier than I thought he would be. Guess he's been hitting the vendors a little too hard lately." A muffled hollering came from the bag, causing James to jump back. "He's a feisty one!"  
  
Jessie stepped in, pulling a blackjack from the inside of her jacket. In one fell swoop, she cracked the bludgeoning sock across the head of the bag. Whoever was inside, they quickly slumped over, completely unconscious.  
  
"Wow..." James' jaw hung with shock. Jessie had always been brutal and to the point, but this was a new level in brutality. "Where'd you get that, Jess?"  
  
She shrugged. "Send away."  
  
"Quickly," Psi cut short the idiotic banter with a wave of his hand, stalking away from the edge of the roof. "Bring the boy. We shall find a modicum of privacy, and then do away with him."  
  
Jessie snapped her fingers at her boys, following in Psi's footsteps. "You heard the man. I knocked him out, so it's only fair that you carry him."  
  
James and Meowth exchanged pained expressions. Then, groaning and heaving, they picked up the incapacitated, incarcerated teen, little suspecting that things weren't quite what they seemed.  
* * *  
  
"Mr. Ketchum!"  
  
"Mr. Ketchum could we get a few words from you?"  
  
"I LOVE YOU ASH!"  
  
"Is it true you're currently in negotiation with 4 Kids Entertainment to do a movie about your life?"  
  
"YO ASH, YOU ROCK!"  
  
"TAKE ME AS YOUR PROTÉGÉ! I WANNA BE AS GREAT AS YOU!!!"  
  
"What are your opinions on the allegations that you're the love child of Hollywood starlets Benji Affekt and Natalia Portmanyana?"  
  
"Do you have any comments before your match with Zephyr?"  
  
"I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABY, ASH!"  
  
Dixie was overwhelmed as they approached the steps of the Bluster City Gym. There seemed to be a sea of reporters surrounding the entrance of the gym, and each of them was all but attacking Ash. She had heard of Ash before meeting him, of course, but she had never known he was this famous. By the look on Ash's face, she surmised that he hadn't known, either. With a grim determination that was highly uncharacteristic of him, he shoved his way through the throngs, pushing past wave after wave of offending microphones and idiotic questions.  
  
More disturbing, however, was the turnout of fans that had shown up. She could see hundreds of people surrounding the gym, and it was clear to any observer who they were there to see. Everywhere she looked, there was a red and white hat perched atop nearly everyone in the crowd. Many had drawn Ash's trademark 'Z' beneath their eyes, albeit some were backwards while others were hopelessly crooked. One oddity in particular intrigued her, and that was the dozens of women there who had died their hair reddish orange. Each of them wore some kind of variation of the same outfit; a yellow, sleeveless shirt and cutoff shorts held aloft with red suspenders. Although the outfit didn't ring a bell, there was no mistaking that red hair...  
  
The gym itself was also quite a sight to behold; it was easily the largest building in the area, boasting a height of at least a hundred feet. It consisted of a series of rising black pillars surrounding a majestic, rising wall of glowing white marble that seemed to shimmer in the sinking sun. A trio of rising staircases led up to the towering doors of the gym. Each of the doors must have weighed thousands of pounds. Luckily for anyone interested in getting in the gym, the doors each had a smaller door built within it. The doors, as well as the rest of the gym, were engraved with a variety of Pokémon. Ash himself could easily identify a dozen types, all of them second or third stage evolutions, and all of them insanely strong. Was that what awaited him inside?  
  
At the top of the stairs they saw McAlistair, standing calmly next to a podium. Both looked out of place; the podium, as it was almost blocking the entrance to the gym, having been hastily erected mere moments before the media circus. Next to the gym, framing the entrance was a pair of forty-foot tall plasma screens. The screens were darkened at the moment, but would soon come to life with what Ash and Dixie could only surmise would be Ash's battle with the gym leader. Alistair, however, stood out thanks to his steam-pressed three-piece suit, crisp and creaseless and painfully businesslike compared to the disheveled ocean of reporters and fans. His tiny, slitted eyes lit up at the sight of Ash, Dixie, and Pikachu.  
  
"It's about time!" he huffed, catching Ash's arm and dragging him up the rest of the stairs before Ash could even let out a peep. "Now, remember the line; Silph products are what got me where I am today."  
  
"Right, right...um, waitaminute-" he blinked as McAlistair shoved him behind the podium, "You want me to speak now?"  
  
"No time like the present, I always say."  
  
McAlistair shoved the babbling boy out in front of the gathered throng, situating him behind the hastily erected podium, all the while ignoring Ash's stuttering protests. He kept a firm hand on Ash's shoulder, planting him in place lest he get any ideas of retreat, and leaned over to speak into the small bloom of microphones situated atop the podium.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began judiciously with a smile so fabricated, Ash could have sworn it had been purchased from a catalogue. "I am pleased to present to you one of the finest trainers ever to grace our planet, as well as a close personal friend of mine..." At that, Ash couldn't help but roll his eyes, even as his protests fell silent. "The official trainer of the Silph Corporation, provider of quality Pokémon training products for generations, both past and yet to come..." he swept his hand across the podium, nearly knocking Pikachu off of Ash's shoulder as he stepped back, "ASHLAN KETCHUM!!!"  
  
There was a tremendous roar from the crowd, as if McAlistair had told them they would each be receiving a cash dividend simply from attending. For many, however, the chance to see their hero, the boy who had conquered a league of men, was better than any sum of money. As Ash stared blankly at his fans and reporters, it was all he could do not to scream in panic. Never before had he realized just how many people out there held him as an icon like that. There were hundreds of people out there dressed up like him...heck, some of them made a better Ash than he did!  
  
"Uh..." he swallowed. The crowd quickly grew silent, hanging on to each sound that their hero made. Many had waited years to hear Ash speak in person. They waited, exploding with anticipation. "Uh...Hi."  
  
Another roar seemed to shake the steps of the gym as the crowd went wild. Dixie was hard-pressed to keep on her feet as the audience went into frenzy, clawing and screaming uncontrollably. A line of Silph security appeared as though from nowhere, pressing the fans back.  
  
Ash winced, his fear doubling. He had faced down legendary Pokémon, demon Pokémon, and megalomaniacs, both sane and not so much. But this...this was just sick. It was as if these people would rip him apart if they ever got the chance. It reminded him of the Indigo League finals, where his own loyal fans in Kanto had pulled a one-eighty and turned against him. It was not a happy memory...  
  
It reminded him just how fragile a fan's love could be.  
  
"I'm..." he whispered hoarsely into the microphones, suddenly choked up. "I'm gonna go battle the gym leader...uh, now. Kay?"  
  
He stepped quickly from the podium as the fans exploded with approval. The sound was deafening. Waves of adulation ripped across the gym square, shaking the very ground they stood on as the fans clamored to get past the police assigned to keep them back. As Ash, Dixie and Pikachu entered the towering doors of the gym. The floor still trembled with the roar of the crowds. Even through the door, Ash could hear their cries and shouts, nearly drowning out McAlistair as he began accepting the barrage of questions being hurled from the section of reporters.  
  
Ash forced all of that from his mind, trying to concentrate on the battle to come. The instant Dixie had closed the door behind them, they had been swallowed up in darkness. He had taken a few blind steps forward, uncertain as to what was supposed to happen, and wondering if he should turn back and ask McAlistair, when a shimmering shaft of light erupted not more than a dozen meters away. Though his eyes stung and watered, he managed to catch a glimpse of a figure standing in the light, wearing a dark black cloak. The figure's face was obscured, and it was hard to determine the figure's build as well. Ash couldn't tell whether he was dealing with a man, or a woman, or even a Pokémon in disguise.  
  
His first clue came quickly, though, as a deep, imposing voice reverberated about the chamber. *YOU!* the figure raised a single hand wrapped in the hanging folds of the cloak, singling Ash out with his finger. Ash and Pikachu took a step back at this, eyes growing wide with surprise, and just a touch of fear. They had been expecting a Pokémon battle, not some wacky kind of mystic inquisition. *You are the one they call Ash Ketchum?*  
  
"Uh..."  
  
*SILENCE!* the figure boomed, his voice assaulting them from every direction at once. *You know not the terrible wrath that you have brought upon yourself, Ash Ketchum. You seek this,* the figure extended his hand, palm up, raising it as if calling forth some hidden power. Without warning, a small explosion of smoke and light enveloped his hand. When the smoke cleared, the figure held a small badge between his thumb and forefinger. It was a triangular crest, with a curved field of blue slashing across the center. *You seek the Galebadge, do you not?*  
  
"Um,"  
  
*Well,* the figure drew the badge back into his cloak quickly, throwing his other hand out to the side. As if by magic, more explosions of colored smoke and light detonated in a circular pattern around him, casting his light-blurred image in hues of demonic red and tranquil blue all at the same time. *In order for you to obtain this, you must overcome impossible odds-*  
  
"Excuse me-"  
  
*Defeat unbeatable Pokémon-*  
"Ex-cuse me!"  
  
The figure was on a roll, casting his arms about with each new proclamation. The air in the room seemed to shift with each of his gestures, blowing so hard that Ash had to slap a hand on top of his hat lest it be ripped off of his head. *Prepare yourself for the battle of your life, Ash Ketchum... It will be a battle that-*  
  
"HEY!" Ash shouted angrily, cupping his free hand over his mouth to try and be heard above the din.  
  
The figure paused, letting his arms drop. Immediately, the wind ceased, and the smoke was cleared. *What?* he asked, his voice taking on a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.  
  
"Do you..." Ash waved his hand in front of his face, momentarily gagging on the smoke. "Do you think we could cut the drama out and get to the battle?"  
  
*You mean you don't want to do the pre-fight show?*  
  
"Show?" Ash was confused. Was this the gym leader? If so, he was certifiable, that was for sure. "No, I didn't come to put on a show. I came to get a badge. Now, are you the gym leader? Could you take me to them?"  
  
*Oh, saints be praised.* The figure slumped over in relief. He looked up at an unseen ally, waving his hands to signal. *Okay, Wind, let's bring the lights back to normal!*  
  
In an instant, the shaft of light disappeared, and the normal lights of the gym rose slowly so as not to blind its occupants. Trying to will his pupils to close faster, Ash cast his gaze about the gym. At first glance, it seemed fairly straightforward; there was a single battle floor, larger than any he had ever seen before, and completely bare from its metallic brown floor up to its towering ceiling. If he had to guess, he would have placed the entire gym at being equal to about four football fields placed end to end and side to side in a grid pattern. At the moment, he, Dixie, and Pikachu stood near the centerline of the battle arena's lengthwise side, only off by the sidelines.  
  
The cloaked figure seemed glad to shuck the mystery as he approached them. His hood fell back, revealing a middle-aged man with a bright shock of red hair with gray seeping in at the temples, green eyes that crinkled at the edges, and a ready smile that flashed as he stuck out his hand to greet the trainers properly. "The name's Zephyr, m'boy. I run the Bluster City Gym. I suppose you'd be Ash Ketchum?"  
  
Ash nodded slowly, taking the man's hand with a bit of trepidation. After that rather odd entrance, he wasn't quite sure what to make of this gym leader. From his experiences, there was no other group of people more prone to oddities and quirks (some of which were more dangerous than others). "That's right."  
  
"McAlistair said you'd be coming. However," he took Dixie's hand with a delicate kiss to her knuckle, smiling suavely. "He said nothing about sending a lovely lass such as this with you." Dixie blushed, much to Ash's annoyance, but he let it pass for the moment. Casting his eyes downward, Zephyr brightened immediately. "And this must be your Pikachu."  
  
"Pika." Pikachu's head tilted. It was rarely regarded in a manner as Zephyr was doing right now, especially by gym leaders. However, the Pokémon had a keen knack for sensing danger, and Pikachu didn't sense anything like that from this man. "Cha?"  
  
"I've heard quite a few tales about this little fellow, let me tell you." He dug into his pocket, coming up with a tiny brown treat. Now it was Pikachu's turn to brighten, as it hopped up and down excitedly until Zephyr gave it to the tiny mouse. He caught Ash's disapproving, suspicious glare, and tried to reassure the young trainer with another smile. "Not to worry, lad, it's all-natural. I wouldn't try to drug your Pikachu just before a match, now would I?"  
  
Ash scratched the back of his neck, still not convinced. "You'll have to forgive me. I've had a bad history with a lot of gym leaders, and...Well, after that entrance..."  
  
"That?" Zephyr laughed, slapping his knee. "Oh, laddie, I can't blame you for being suspicious after all that hullabaloo."   
  
He began leading them to the opposite end of the stadium, where they could see a single trainer's box rising a dozen feet or so above the bare floor. A small blue flag stuck from the front of the box about halfway up, jutting out at an odd angle. There was another box at the other end of the field, with a red flag set up identically to its counterpart. Ash made a mental note of the flags, wondering if they would have something to do with the match.  
  
"Y'see, you and me, we're not so different, Mr. Ketchum." Zephyr continued to explain as they walked the hundred yards or so to the box. "The Silph Corporation provides over ninety percent of my gym's funding, so they've got me by the short hairs just as they do you."  
  
"Uh, right..." Ash drawled, wondering what he meant by "short hairs." "And please, just call me Ash."  
  
"All right, lad," Zephyr nodded agreeably. "Ash, then, d'you see those little cameras situated in the ceiling high above?" He cast his finger upwards for Ash and Dixie to follow. Ash squinted, catching a faint glimpse of light reflecting off of what he could only assume was a lens.  
  
"Sure, I think..."  
  
"Well," Zephyr continued, "That big blowhard out there, McAlistair, got the smart idea to broadcast this on all the major training networks across the globe. He came to me, and told me to put on some kind of show for the public." He snorted. "Buncha Tauros trollop if you ask me, lad. But you know the public. An all-out battle royal isn'a good enough for 'em. They need a bloody show to hoot an' holler at."  
  
Despite his first impression of the odd man, Ash was beginning to like Zephyr. As they neared the trainer's box, he caught sight of another man, this one considerably younger than the gym leader. He possessed the same red hair and green eyes, and a smile no less charming. "Oi!" he hollered, waving to the three. "I've got everything all set up, Pops!"  
  
"Good job, lad!" Zephyr waved back. "That's my son, Wind. He aims to take over the family business, he does."  
  
"Zephyr," Ash looked around, taking the entire gym in. He was almost positive that someone could transplant the entirety of Indigo's main stadium into the gym, complete with attached Pokécenter, and still have room to fit Speedy's diner, the Velocity Burger, off to the side. "This place is amazing! I can't imagine what kind of battles you could run in a place like this."  
  
"Oh, aye." Zephyr nodded in agreement as they (finally) reached the box. He gave his son a hearty clap on the shoulder, then led Ash around to the other side of the box. Resting on the ground was a small blue platform that seemed to be connected to the box via a long, black slot that traveled the length of the tiny tower from bottom to top. A small trainer's podium stood atop the platform, presumably where Ash would command his Pokémon from. "My gym here is one of a kind, s'far as I know. You see the floor there?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Zephyr leaned in close to the pair with a twinkle in his eyes. His voice became low and mischievous. "In another five minutes, you won't recognize this place a'tall. Y'see, we have panels built into the floor that rise up when activated. My son here will do that from the control box way up yonder." He pointed, indicating a skybox jutting from the lengthwise wall. It hung above the doorway, which explained why he and Dixie hadn't noticed it when they had walked in. "The walls are completely random, so I won't have any sort of field advantage on you, and they'll form a right puzzlin' maze."  
  
"That awesome!" Dixie exclaimed. "You came up with the concept all on your own?"  
  
"Aye," It was Zephyr's turn to blush now, which he did so unabashedly. "Now, let's get this show on the road. Wind, show the lovely lass up to the box with you, will ye?" His son looked all too happy to do so, and stuck out his elbow, which Dixie took graciously. "Now, Ash, you just situate yourself up here, and pick out eight of your Pokémon to use. The war's about to start, lad." He started off in a quick step for his own box with a spryness that was unusual for a man his age.  
  
Ash stepped onto the platform, which immediately began to rise with a sudden jolt. Pikachu had to scramble atop before it was left behind. By the time the platform had gotten halfway to the top of the trainer's box, Ash finally processed everything that Zephyr had just said.  
  
"Wait a minute," he cried out, "What do you mean, EIGHT Pokémon? What war?"  
* * *  
  
Brock awoke slowly, unaware of where he was, what had happened, or how the back of his head was sporting a lump the size of an orange. At the moment, all he could discern was that John Phillip Sousa was doing a half-time show inside of his head, and was already on his third encore (which was odd, considering that marching bands rarely performed encores). However, the darkened room he was in quickly came into focus as his consciousness slipped back into his grasp.  
  
One of the first things he noticed was that he was tied to a chair with thick bands of coarse twine. There were several bands of the stuff wrapped around his chest, as well as a pair securing his wrists behind his back, and another pair latching his ankles onto the legs of the metal folding chair. A quick glance about his surroundings didn't tell him much; all he could see was row after row of boxes, stacked as high as the ceiling. He himself was in one such row, with boxes sitting about two feet to the left and right of him. A single hanging bulb provided his only illumination.  
  
"Hello?" He strained against his bonds to no avail. Whoever had tied the knots had done a halfway decent job in making sure he didn't do anything but stay put. "Hello, is anyone there? I, uh...I seem to be tied to a chair...somehow..." His memory of the moments leading up to the painful blackness he had experienced for an indeterminate length of time was a little hazy. He recalled Ash and Dixie, and something about pretzels, and then...Well, he assumed that's where the gigantic lump on the back of his head came in.  
  
"Ah," a weathered voice echoed from all around him, "Our guest awakens." It wasn't a voice that Brock could immediately place, which instantly put him on the alert. What was that old phrase? Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.  
  
A familiar trio soon rounded the corner, followed by someone Brock could only assume to be the one who had spoken. Faced down with devils both known and unknown, his worry soon tripled. Jessie, James, and Meowth parted, making way for a grizzly old man as if they revered him. The old one wore a broad black hat and coat to match, which hung loosely off of his thin skeleton like a sheaf of curtains. His gnarl-toothed smile sent cold shivers down Brock's spine as he approached the chair-ridden boy. "Hello, young one." The old man greeted him with a cordial sweep of his hat. "Feeling all right, I hope. That was some knock on the head Jessie gave you."  
  
"Who are you?" Brock demanded, "Where am I? What do you want with me?"  
  
The old man sighed. "Young people. You have no respect for manners anymore, do you? Very well." He stepped back, pulling a small device out of his jacket. It was comparable to the size and shape of a Pokédex, and even sported a similar sensor packet on the front. Ignoring Brock completely, he began to sweep it across the Rock Master's face. Upon reaching proximity to his face, the small black box sent a small shaft of light running across every nook and cranny on his mug. "My real name," he said in passing, "Has escaped me over the years. Such a tragedy, really. I seem to recall it being quite a nice name. In any case, most people know me as Psi."  
  
"Psi?" Brock rolled the unfamiliar sound around in his mouth. "Wait a minute..." He began running through the Greek alphabet, or at least what he could remember. "Alpha, Beta, Gamma...something, something...uh, squiggle..." Then his eyes widened. "Waitaminute! You're part of that Omega Red dealie!"  
  
With a raised eyebrow at the word 'dealie', Psi nodded slowly, retracting the light beam back into his black device. "Correct. Master Psi, if you're feeling formal..."  
  
"Master of what?" Brock spat, struggling twice as hard to shrug off his bonds, and receiving the same results as before. "Lies and trickery?"  
  
"Quiet, fool!" Jessie hissed. She pulled her blackjack and raised it high above her head, as if to clonk Brock across the cranium once again, but Psi raised a single hand, holding her attack at bay. She still sneered at Brock fiercely with a glimmer in her eye that warned the beefy young breeder to watch his tone.  
  
"Wait and see, my young friend, wait and see." Calmly, Psi attached the device to his belt beneath his coat. Then, removing the outer garment entirely, he flexed his aged body a bit. With his heavy black overcoat on the floor, it was clear to see that there was little of him left; his ribs jutted out, almost bursting from the tight black material stretched across his concave chest. With calm, steady hands, he drew a black hood from his pocket and placed it over his head. There was a pair of holes for the eyes, and a tiny slit for the mouth, but nothing more.  
  
Brock couldn't have kept the sarcasm from his voice even if the notion had interested him. "So, you're going to kill us by knocking over a seven-eleven?"  
  
"First off," Psi spoke through the fabric, muffling his voice a tad as he fiddled with the apparatus on his belt, "The Ketchum boy is our only target. I have no real interest in harming you...though if that mouth of yours doesn't learn some proper respect quickly, I may do away with you out of annoyance."  
  
"Ash?" Brock wasn't sure what to feel first; relief on his own part, fear for his friend, or just a bit of indignation at being left out. "What makes him so special?"  
  
"I don't know. If he gives Mr. Giovanni a tenth of the aggravations that I am experiencing in my dealings with you, he felt it more than justified...Ah, there we are." He stepped back once more, tapping one final control on the belt apparatus. "Now, watch closely, and do try not to blink."  
  
Brock came the closest he ever had in his entire life to opening his eyes with shock as the assassin's body seemed to shift and undulate beneath the black material. Jessie, James, and Meowth, however, gaped openly as a miracle (or an anti-miracle, depending on your perspective) began before their very eyes.   
  
In less time than it takes to write about, Psi's body had taken upon itself to change...and it was most definitely an improvement! It was almost as if every part of the old man's body was expanding and re-molding itself into something far more powerful. For an instant, that was exactly what Brock thought, that it was indeed Psi's own body that was re-shaping. Then he caught sight of the old man's hands, which remained unchanged, even as new muscles cropped up where ribs and bones had been only moments before. It must have been the black suit that he wore...that was the only explanation that didn't involve satanic rituals or massive doses of bulking powder. Still, whether it was magic or not, something was causing the old man to grow to a rather impressive height...if Brock had been standing, he'd daresay that Psi would now be at about eye-level with him.  
  
"And now," The now-brawny old man spoke from beneath the black mask, "For the finishing touches." Without looking, he tapped another control on his belt. This time, his body, which looked uncomfortably familiar to Brock, remained still. Instead, it was Psi's face, or rather, his mask, which began to change. The black color shifted higher on the spectrum, becoming lighter with each passing second as the fabric rose in some places and sunk in others, creating a whole new face. Small fibers rose above the eyes forming into dark bands that would become eyebrows momentarily, even as millions more rose from the top of the head. These fibers climbed stiffly, clumping together into a mass of curved, brown spikes that splashed from Psi's crown and hung in the air, defying most known laws of physics (and ascetic decency).  
  
Thirty seconds after the entire business had begun, Brock found himself face to face with an exact duplicate of himself, complete with slanted, narrow eyes and brawny macho build.  
  
"Well," Brock's voice sang flawlessly from the duplicate, who smiled haughtily with twisted lips. It was an arrogant expression that had no business being on his face, but nonetheless, there it hung, not more than a few feet from him. "What do you think?"  
  
It took Brock several tries to find the words, and several more to get them past his utter amazement. "S-s-sure..." he tried to find that same defiance that had shone through before, but it had long since departed. "You look good, but you're still a Ratticate."  
  
"Sticks and stones," Psi clucked with Brock's voice, waggling Brock's finger at him, "Sticks and stones." He took several steps back, folding his arms behind his back. "Now, Jessie, James, if you wouldn't mind, I'll be needing a change of clothes."  
  
"Hey, what are you doing?" Was what Brock intended to say, but he was cut short when Jessie brought the blackjack across the back of his skull, knocking him out cold again and giving him a second lump.   
  
James admired the blackjack as Jessie replaced it inside her jacket. "Man," he shook his head, "I have got to get me one of those things."  
  
"Shut up, Jimmy Boy, and let's strip this chump." Meowth groused, removing the ropes from Brock's unconscious form. The vocal cat began tugging at Brock's pants, even as Jessie turned away with embarrassment. "Hey, he has nicer boxers than you do, Jimmy." Meowth examined the pink, silk pair that Brock wore, dotted with tiny red and white Pokéballs.  
  
"Meowth, you little...Hey, you're right!"  
* * *  
"Wait a minute," Ash spoke into the communication speaker as his platform locked into place high above the battle arena. "Why do we need eight Pokémon? I only have six." Even as he spoke, he placed his five Pokéballs into the slots in front of him, glancing at the three open slots he couldn't fill. "Don't most gyms only use six anyway?"  
  
"Well..." Zephyr's face appeared in the corner screen, flickering for a moment as the fiber optic connection solidified between the two boxes. "Y'see, this ain't exactly Indigo, lad. A lot of leagues don't have the same restrictions as your Island does, and that includes the Rule of Six."  
  
"Okay, so it's an eight-on-eight battle?" He felt a small sliver of relief. As long as a few of his Pokémon were able to take out more than one. And with hard hitters like Pikachu, Charizard, and Articuno, it wouldn't be too difficult to do so. "I'm game."  
  
"Welllll," Zephyr drawled again, "Not exactly. See, the object of this isn't to simply beat your opponent into submission. How boring is that, eh? Been done a thousand times, it has. So that's where these bonnie wee flags come in."  
  
Ash took a peek over the railing of his box, and saw the blue flag hanging limply from its post on the front, several feet down. Below the flag was his Pikachu. Pikachu looked a bit tense, but otherwise ready for the battle to come. "I see 'em. So?"  
  
"The object is to use all eight of your Pokémon at once to capture your opponent's flag while defending your own. It's sort of like being commander of a fighting unit."  
  
Ash was about to ask something else when the entire building began to shake. He grabbed hold of the railing, trying not to fall on his butt in front of millions of viewers. Nothing could have kept the astonishment from his face as the floor of the gym rose up in dozens of spots, forming towering walls that levitated to meet the ceiling high above. Before he knew it, a solid wall blocked his view of the opposing side, with only a tiny vertical slit serving as the entrance to what was no doubt a mind-boggling maze.  
  
"So, laddie, y'ready?"  
  
Ash wasn't anywhere near ready. His head was spinning at all the changes that had taken place in the last few minutes, but refused to ask for a delay so that he could cope. He was forced to do what he did best; to act on the fly, and pray that he was making the right decision. Without an ounce of hesitation, he removed all but one of the balls from the slots, replacing the others onto his belt.  
  
"Ash," Zephyr frowned, his on-screen image looking off at some unseen screen of his own, "I see you've only got two for the battle today. Do you want to reschedule so that you can get a full team out here? I thought you'd've come prepared..."  
  
"Oh, I'm prepared all right," Ash assured him. "I've never done something like this before, so I figure that quality is better than quantity in this case.  
  
"No skin off my back." Zephyr shrugged. Suddenly, a flash of light erupted from behind the Pokéball in the slot. Ash cried out as the ball was swallowed up by the slot, drawn within the trainer's control podium before he could do anything about it. "Don't worry, lad, your beastie's fine. That flash of light you saw was just a little something to help the battle go smoother. We've encoded your Charizard's digitized form with a headset that'll materialize when he does. Oi, Wind, did you give the lad's Pikachu a headset?"  
  
A voice came over the loudspeaker, and Ash recognized it as Zephyr's son. *Sure did, Pops. Ash'll be able to see everything his beastie sees on his monitor, same as you.*  
  
*Knock him dead, Ash!* Dixie's voice cut in, echoing across the gym. Ash couldn't help but smile, and he gave a little wave at the control booth before refocusing his energies on the battle ahead.  
  
Zephyr finished everything on his end, then nodded. "All right, if we're ready, then...Hit it, Wind!"  
*BATTLE COMMENCE!*  
  
"Pokéball, go!" Ash commanded, slapping the launch control on his podium. Immediately, a red and white ball flew from the box and out into the open space ahead. It split apart on an unseen hinge, exploding forth with a wave of brilliant, blinding white energy that flew forth and struck the floor. The energy danced and remolded itself in an instant, shifting its shape and reconstituting itself into matter more quickly than the eye could follow. In the blink of an eye, the energy had coalesced into a towering mass of leathery orange hide that was Ash's only Dragon Pokémon.  
  
"Charizard, Pikachu, I CHOOSE YOU!" Ash called out. He caught sight of a headset resting on the right side of either of his Pokémon, even as they flinched and clutched at their respective ears, crying out in pain. "Oh, sorry." He had forgotten about the radio system, and had inadvertently given them quite the earful. "I choose you." He said again, this time far more softly.   
  
'All right,' he thought to himself, 'It's time to come up with some kind of strategy...' Zephyr's Pokémon were undoubtedly coming for his flag, and he was (also undoubtedly) using all eight of the allowed Pokémon in this battle. If he added that to the fact that he didn't know what kind of Pokémon Zephyr was sporting, it all came together to form a big, fat mess sitting right in his lap. He could send both of his boys out to try and capture the flag, but that would leave his own flag unprotected.   
  
"Pikachu," he addressed the thunderous mouse below him, leaning over the railing to talk to it face to face, "I want you to stay here and guard the flag with me. Charizard," At its name, Charizard let out a snorting sigh of flame, leaving its nostrils smoldering as it looked to Ash, "You're gonna be our offense, buddy. I want you to go after that flag with everything you've got. Okay?"  
  
Charizard rumbled, nodding. Before Ash could get another word out, it took off with a ferocious roar and a beat from its leathery wings. It nearly blew poor Pikachu out of the ring as it streaked towards the maze, disappearing into the darkened corridors.  
  
A tense silence fell over the arena for the next several minutes as Ash watched intently on his screen, observing the live video feed coming from Charizard's headset. It was odd at first, observing a battle from a first-hand perspective, but then again, Ash was no stranger to being in a Pokémon's line of fire, and he adjusted quickly. Every now and then he'd whisper Charizard some simple instructions when the dragon would reach a dead end, but for the most part he let it move out on its own. Ash knew better than anyone that Charizard was the independent type. Not only that, but it was just as stubborn and determined as Ash; whatever the battle, Ash knew Charizard wouldn't fail unless it couldn't help but do so.  
  
A flash from the opening of the maze on his side interrupted his thoughts, instantly bringing his focus back onto the real and the now. He felt that old familiar charge of adrenaline rush through his body as several darkened shapes emerged from the corridor ahead, darting forth and taking shape in the light of the arena. He did a quick count as they rushed forward, trying to identify them even as they barreled down on his Pikachu. Their species weren't difficult to discern; a blue-green Poliwhirl complete with swirling belly, an oozing, bubbling Muk, a snarling, flaming Typhlosion, a snickering Sneasel, and a soaring Skarmory.  
  
"All right, Pikachu," Ash gritted his teeth, gripping the railing of his podium hard. "Start off with a Thunderblast!"   
  
Pikachu began to glow with a sparking amber aura, coming to life with crackling flames of electricity. Within moments, it had built up enough of a charge to make a power plant green with envy, and with a cry of its name, sent out a storm of razor-edged lances in a half-sphere of destruction. Zephyr's Pokémon held back from their charge lest they be blasted back by the force of the minuscule mouse. His Poliwhirl skidded to a halt and desperately began scrambling back from the electricity that could prove fatal to it. True, both Ash and his Pikachu had trained to fight without the use of lethal force in a battle, but nevertheless any one of the bolts could easily lay the aquatic soldier out. One of the thunderbolts struck the Skarmory's wing, sending a massive charge through the metallic bird. With a screech of pain, Skarmory crashed into the gym floor, sending an explosion of fragments and dozens of spiderwebbed cracks flying across the floor.  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu had little time to celebrate, as Zephyr's other Pokémon were close at hand. It dodged a flying lavender glob of acidic poison from the gym leader's oozing sludge pile, becoming a blur of yellow lightning as the Sludge attack struck where it had been and was already eating a crater into the floor. Pikachu sent a hail of golden stars into the slimy Muk at Ash's command, and so was unprepared for the column of pure flame that enveloped it, sending it flying.  
  
"Pikachu!" Ash cried out. He nearly leapt off of his platform in a panic, despite the twenty foot drop below him. He saw Pikachu emerge from the flames, singed but otherwise unharmed. The tiny mouse landed on all fours, its claws scraping against the floor as it skidded to a halt. Already, Zephyr's Typhlosion was bearing down on Pikachu, readying another burst of flame as Zephyr's Sneasel was backing it up, brandishing fearsome, gleaming claws with a dark smile to match. "Pikachu, quick, use Thundercharge!"  
  
Without a moment to spare, Pikachu leapt forward, charging up again. This time, though, it kept the charge within itself, instead using the energy to give its Agility ability tenfold the power it would usually have. The Pokémon leapt forward faster than the eye could follow, striking the lurching Typhlosion like a bullet and ricocheting away in an instant. Typhlosion was knocked back, landing squarely on its Sneasel support before the black hearted Pokémon could dodge. Pikachu carried the charge through, striking the still-recovering Muk with the residual momentum. A spray of toxic ooze exploded from the contact point as Pikachu came to another screeching halt several feet away. Even Pikachu couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction as the Typhlosion and the Sneasel scrambled, falling all over each other trying to get up even as their slimy companion slumped into a heap and began to spread, losing cohesion as it fell unconscious.  
  
Using the momentary victory, Ash stole a glance at his monitor, and was relieved to see that Charizard had made it through the maze. Zephyr's flag fluttered in the distance on his screen, with a trio of Pokémon guarding it. He identified them on the fly; a Diglett poking out of the ground with leering eyes, and next to it, a Dodrio with vicious, gleaming talons. Most fearsome, however, was a Machamp with its dual pair of arms folded across its massive chest. Ash desperately hoped that the camera added more than ten pounds, because it had to be the biggest of its species that he had ever seen.   
  
"Charizard, you still on-line, buddy?" An affirmative snarl came through the vid-link. "Okay, here's the plan. It looks like he's got quite a bit of defenses lined up, so let's make this a hit-and-run; spray them with some heavy fire, then snatch the flag in the confusion. Got it?" Another roar informed him that Charizard was hip to the plan. "Okay." Ash glanced back up from the screen, and saw to his dismay that Zephyr's forces were already regrouping for another attack. His eyes narrowed, and his teeth ground together as he clenched his jaw in irritation. "All right, 'laddie'," he muttered, "You wanna dance? Let's tango."  
* * *  
  
Dixie observed the battle from high above in the control booth. The overhead perspective was a contradiction in and of itself. It gave her the heady sensation of seeing the battle from atop an unreachable place, much as a god would look down upon such a conflict. At the same time, though, she felt powerless to help Ash...and from the looks of it, he could use all the help he could get. She turned to Wind, watching as he sat by calmly, watching with casual disinterest. He had a single wireless earpiece resting snugly in place that made a faint buzzing every so often.  
  
"It seems like your father has a lot more experience at this than Ash does." Dixie lamented, crossing her arms with worry.  
  
Wind nodded, never letting his gaze shift from the arena. "Yeah, Pops always was a good tactician. He'd never admit it, but he has a flair for warfare." The boy shrugged. "Not one of his prouder talents, but he's parlayed it into a fine gym, he has." Wind suddenly leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Say now, it looks like that lad of yours has finally made it to the other end...now things'll get interesting." He said to her with a wink.  
  
Dixie fingered her sunburst locket, an old habit she took to whenever her nervousness grew. So far, the battle had been interesting. That was the way a lot of Ash's battles had started. She hoped it didn't grow to be disastrous, as sometimes those battles did.  
* * *  
  
Charizard leapt forward with a ferocious snarl. It had been weeks since it had been faced with a decent challenge, much to its own great annoyance, but now, with three Pokémon between it and its prize-  
  
Now it was playtime.  
  
It barely heard the boy's voice droning on in its ear. Charizard rarely paid attention to Ash unless it was absolutely necessary based on the simple fact that it knew better. Certainly, the boy was nice enough, as pathetic humans went, but really; was Charizard honestly supposed to listen to something as ridiculous as a soft-skinned, non-elemental being that it could crush between its jaws as easily as a grape nut?  
  
All of that escaped its mind, replaced with pure, animal rage. There would be no cute moves here, no "Fire Spin," or other such nonsense like that. As Charizard streaked forward, it let loose with another bellow. This time, it allowed the burning anger within it to belch forth, spraying a jet of red flames halfway across the arena. The Diglett drew back into the ground and sped off, leaving a trail of displaced floor tiling as it retreated. Zephyr's Machamp flipped back in time, avoiding the flames as well. Dodrio, however, wasn't nearly fast enough, and received the full brunt of the attack. With a shriek from each of its three heads, the bird was blown back and into the trainer's box, cracking the plasteel material before dropping in a heap.  
  
Zephyr smiled as Charizard charged forward, heading straight for the flag. "Not bad, big fellow, not bad a'tall. Still, we can't have none o'that, can we? Diglett, show our guest the door, will you?"  
  
Diglett, still underground, made a u-turn and began streaking like an underground bullet for the still-airborne Charizard. It stopped just below the gi-normous dragon, and was about to pop out with a fearsome Rock Shatter attack. Diglett's plan took a turn for the worse when Charizard simply landed, stomping flat on the tiny lump of displaced tile that was the only indication of Diglett in the ring. A small squeak escaped the pile, and then all was silent in the gym as Zephyr and his Machamp looked with new appreciation at the snorting Charizard.  
  
"Boy-oh, I'm impressed." Zephyr whistled. "You are one cold-hearted son of a gun, I'll give you that. Machamp, looks like it's down to you, lad."  
  
Machamp's froggish face split into a grin. It, too, was always looking for a challenge. With slow, plodding steps, it began to advance on Ash's Charizard. With each step it took, it made sure to crack one of its knuckles nice and loud, adding to the drama. Charizard snorted tendrils of flame, its teeth bared and a snarl ready on its lips.   
  
Things just got interesting.  
* * *  
  
"PIKACHU!"  
  
Pikachu was far beyond hearing Ash. It had managed to put Poliwhirl down for the count with a few well-placed bolts of electricity, but Zephyr's Muk had recovered in the meantime, and that left four other Pokémon still to deal with. Things had been going all right, considering, until Muk had swallowed Pikachu. The tiny mouse's outline was visible even from Ash's box, and was pounding from the inside out, its muffled cries growing more and more desperate.   
  
While Muk had Pikachu occupied, the others had formed a pyramid, with Sneasel at the top, to snatch the wavering blue flag. The snickering Sneasel snatched the square of fabric, post and all, and jumped down from the Poké-pyramid, which promptly split apart into its gleeful components and made tracks for the entrance to the maze.  
  
"No!" Ash cried out. His fist slammed into the control panel, momentarily blurring the image from Charizard's headset. "Pikachu, Thunder!"  
* * *  
  
The police were having a hard time keeping the enormous crowds outside of the gym in check as the match between Zephyr and Ash was projected from the plasma flat screens, towering above everything but the gym itself in the large stone forum outside the gym's enlarged doors. Each time Pikachu or Charizard scored another decisive hit, the crowd was reduced to a writhing frenzy. An unseen hold gripped the populace, and in their common love for the trainer, they sang together with one voice whenever he took another step towards victory.  
  
"Look!" One of the more properly Ash-dressed teens raised a finger to the sky, which was rapidly growing as dark as night. The pristine summer sky, unmarred by a single cloud all day, was suddenly swirling with a blanket of blackness that had arisen out of nowhere. The clouds descended on the gym, meteorological warriors converging on the enemy's fortress. They crackled with barely contained power, flashing with lightning and roaring with thunder as they expanded. The crowd's cheers turned into screams of terror as quickly as the clouds had appeared. Some of them, the ones on the edges that had arrived too late for the best positions to witness the match, were the first to run in fear, crying out in confusion as the storm bore down on the shining, pristine marble walls of the gym.  
* * *  
  
Ash could feel the storm growing outside, and not a moment too soon. He could sense Pikachu's strength leaving it as it struggled against Muk's all encompassing, suffocating grip. Indeed, his imagination must have been running amok, because he could almost sense his own breath leaving him. "Pikachu..." he gasped, leaning heavily on the railing. His imagination was almost too good...the edges of his vision were even going back, exactly as Pikachu's must have been. "T-thunder, now!"  
  
The ceiling exploded in a hail of shrapnel that rained upon the combatants in the arena. There was far less debris than Ash expected, however, as the column of pure lightning that poured in through the roof's breach vaporized most of the material. The bolt flew down and struck Zephyr's Muk square and true. After all, how could it miss when the very force controlling it lay within the target itself? There came a shrill cry, then the terrible smell of sizzling ooze as Muk was pumped filled the fury of the very gods themselves, brought down upon its own Pika-snack.   
  
With a snarl far too ferocious for such a tiny warrior, Pikachu burst out of the scorched Muk, which was clearly down for the count for quite some time. Pikachu was bruised, it was battered, and it was covered with slime. And yet, its eyes burned with untold rage that was completely uncharacteristic for the thundermouse. Ash couldn't remember the last time he had seen Pikachu so battered, so absolutely livid. The Pokémon has been swallowed, and that was the final straw. Ash knew this was the time to keep a level head, but he couldn't help but mirror the rage that Pikachu felt. He tried to suppress it, to push it aside, but it was too much. Zephyr wasn't pulling any punches in this match? Well, that was fine by him.  
  
"Pikachu, GO!" Ash snarled, his own eyes blazing with Pikachu's fury. No orders were needed after that. Pikachu shot after the retreating Pokémon, charged with the power of pure lightning and filled with anger the likes of which it had never felt before. Typhlosion and Skarmory had been on the bottom of the pyramid, and so were bringing up the rear of the pack order. With a high-pitched roar, Pikachu threw a Thunderbolt high up at the Skarmory. Unfortunately, the armor that made the bird so invulnerable was also the perfect conductor. The charge channeled easily through the bird's body, flash frying it. As Skarmory dropped to the floor, the overflow of energy still left in it leapt away and into the nearest available vessel, its Typhlosion cohort.   
  
Typhlosion was thrown against the walls of the maze, actually denting the durable alloy and slowing it down significantly. With the reduction in speed, it was all too easy for Pikachu to catch up to it. Rather than start a running battle, Pikachu leapt atop the beast's head and let loose with another charge, channeling this one through its feet, using it to both propel it at even greater velocity and send a painful jolt through Typhlosion's head, knocking it unconscious.  
  
"PIKA!" the mouse roared, sending a charge of fear through the Poliwhirl that stood between it and the flagbearing Sneasel. Of course, it was too late for worry; the springboard bolt of lightning that Pikachu was riding had already carried it past the Poliwhirl, sending it spinning away with the bolt's residual energy wrapping its hungry tendrils of power around the screaming blue Water type. Within moments, Pikachu was nearing the Sneasel's pounding feet, even as Sneasel nearing the other end of the maze. With a burst of uncanny speed, the Dark type burst into the opposing arena, where Charizard and Machamp were locked in deadly combat.   
  
Somehow, during the fight, Machamp had gotten hold of Charizard's neck, and was twisting it this way and that as the massive flame dragon spewed raging fire across half the arena. It was all Machamp could do to hold on, but it clearly had control over its foe. Charizard was furious over this, but it could not overcome Machamp's superior strength. Strong though Charizard might have been, it was no match for a Fighting type in terms of brute force. Machamp spotted Sneasel's barreling retreat and, with a whispered instruction from Zephyr, begun swinging the massive lizard by its angular head. It must have been a dizzying vista for Ash on the opposite end of the video receiver, for certainly Charizard was thrown into disarray. In point of fact, that was Zephyr's plan. However, rather than throw the dragon into disarray, Machamp threw it into Pikachu.  
  
Pikachu was blinded by rage, and had eyes only for Sneasel and the flittering blue flag clutched in its claws. As a result, it was only aware of the massive, flaming comet hurtling towards it when the lighting of the stadium became blotted out. Pikachu looked up just in time to spy Charizard's incredible, rotund bulk as it crashed into the tiny Pokémon's frame. The floor beneath the Poké-pair gave way, cratering and flying apart beneath the strain.  
  
Sneasel easily jumped the twenty feet up to the trainer's box, passing the flag to Zephyr with surprisingly nimble claws. Zephyr smiled and waved the flag at the control booth. Almost immediately, the lights flashed, then returned to normal. The towering labyrinth retracted into the floor, quaking the floors until the final wall disappeared.  
  
*BATTLE OVER!* Wind's voice echoed across the gym, cheerfully ending the match in Zephyr's favor. *BATTLE OVER. GYM LEADER ZEPHYR IS TH' BONNY WINNER*  
  
Ash, was deaf to it all, however. He leapt down from the box before it had even finished lowering to the floor, sprinting the two hundred yards until he reached his Pokémon. They lay in a heap, surrounded by whatever remained of the floor beneath them. "PIKACHU! CHARIZARD!" Neither one of them moved at their names, which only filled him with an even greater sense of dread as his feet skittered to a halt on the jagged fragments.  
  
Zephyr had run to join him, shouting into his headset for Wind to hurry down with an emergency med kit, but Ash was way ahead of him. Reaching into his pack, which possessed an organization that only Ash's scattered mind could understand, he withdrew his potion gun and a pair of revival doses, which he promptly injected into them. Slowly, Pikachu's eyes fluttered open, staring sadly up at Ash.  
  
"Cha?"  
  
Ash hugged Pikachu to his chest. Tears escaped from his eyes, and he didn't particularly care if the entire world saw it (which, in fact, they did). Soon, Charizard returned as well, rumbling in pain. It could not move, only groan. Ash threw himself atop Charizard, sobbing openly. How could he have been so stupid? He totally lost control of himself...he sent two Pokémon into a battle with four-to-one odds...he hadn't found a strategy...but worst of all, he had gotten two of his best friends hurt. "Oh guys..." he sniffed, "Oh man...I'm so...oh man..."  
  
Dixie stood quietly by, not sure what to say. She had never seen Ash this upset, this emotional before. Even after Team Rocket had run him through the wringer back in the Appalachians, he hadn't shed a single tear. His face had been as stoic as a stone. In all the time she had known him, he had been strong, never dropping the veneer of being a champion. Now, though, with his Pokémon hurt, she could see straight into the core of Ash's being, and it was as soft and human as any other human being.   
  
Reaching forward tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but he was beyond noticing. All he could do was cry and hold his battered friends close as Zephyr, Dixie, Wind, and the rest of the world watched on.  
* * *  
  
Several minutes after the match had ended, Zephyr escorted Ash to the gym's main entrance. Beyond the doors, Ash knew, there was quite the reception waiting for him. He could already hear the shouted questions of the reporters, the disappointed faces of his fans, and part of him didn't want to deal with it. Part of him wanted to climb atop his Pidgeot and fly out the gaping hole he had already blown in the ceiling. He knew better, though, just as he knew that he would have to face these demons sooner or later.  
  
"Ash," Zephyr stood to his side, looking straight at the doors as Ash was, and thinking along similar lines. "You fought a bonnie match, an' you have nothin' to be ashamed of. If you want to use me back door-"  
  
"Zephyr," Ash cut him off, quieting the older man with his soft, yet steely tone. "I appreciate your kindness." His eyes had lost all their tears, and were now as cold as ice. Dixie, standing at his other side, wasn't sure if she knew Ash as well as she thought she had. "Many gym leaders haven't shown me even a tenth of the courtesy that you have. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."   
  
His gaze was still locked out straight ahead as he cradled his Pikachu in his arms. Pikachu's breath was ragged, but steady. It, too, fixed its tiny eyes straight ahead. The same shame that poured through Ash poured through Pikachu. The mouse's shame, however, stemmed from its failure in battle. Ash knew that his Pikachu thought it had let him down, and that only made him feel worse.   
  
"This is a demon I've been meaning to face for a long time." Ash said in a murky tone. "Ever since Indigo, I've had this weighing me down. It's time to get it over with."  
  
As Ash opened the doors, Zephyr turned to Dixie and whispered softly in her ear. "What in blazes happened to the lad at Indigo?"  
  
"I think it was his fans back on the Island..." Dixie whispered back. "They-" but before she could finish, she gasped as Ash took the very same podium he had stood at such a short time ago, before the match had begun. McAlistair hovered nearby, glowering with disappointment at the former champion. It was clear that the suit wanted to speak with Ash before the boy spoke, but Ash would have none of it.  
  
"Well," Ash spoke into the microphone, "It looks like I was beaten...fair and square, I might add." His voice echoed across the gym square as the fans and reporters looked on. The clouds that had given Pikachu such power still hung above them, casting the entire ordeal in even greater gloom. Even from so far away, Ash could see hundreds of faces streaked with tears. "I..." He choked for a moment, and Dixie was afraid he was going to cry again.  
  
"Ash..." one of the fans standing up front, with replica hat clutched and crumpled in his pudgy hands, looked up to his hero with crying eyes. "Ash, how could-"  
  
"What?" Ash's own eyes flashed with anger. "How could I lose?" There was a collective gasp, and several people, including the man who had spoken, shrank back from the fuming teen. "Good Goddess, how dense can you people be?"   
  
Dixie's hand flew to her mouth as Zephyr groaned. "Oh no." she murmured.  
  
McAlistair tried to drag him bodily from the podium, but there was no stopping Ash now. He was on a major roll. "Look, you pathetic bunch of Primeapes, I want you to get this through your thick skulls; I don't like a single one of you. You people pick someone who comes into the limelight, and you praise and you worship him, and you elevate him to the status of a god..." his knuckles went white as he gripped the edges of the podium, "And then what happens? He stumbles along the way, or someone else comes along, and you tear that person apart!"  
  
"Ash," Dixie cried, "That's enough!"  
  
Ash didn't even hear her. His own voice had grown to an inhuman roar, which sent waves of painful feedback through the microphone system. "I've seen people exactly like you. They betrayed me once before, just like I'm sure you'll do now. So go! Go out and tell the world that Ashlan Ketchum is a pathetic, half-rate trainer who hates his fans and nearly got his own Pokémon killed! Spread the word, tell everyone that I can't stand the sight of you!" He turned to the group of reporters standing nearby, and pointed. "You! Are you getting all of this?"  
  
"Every word, Mr. Ketchum." One of the reporters spoke up, completely missing Ash's sarcasm.  
  
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to the twisted shambles that is the remainder of my life. I suggest you all go back to yours." He began to step down from the microphones, but then thought better of it when he cast a glance at the fuming suit McAlistair, who stood nearby ready to pounce. Clearing his throat, he added. "Oh, and Silph products are what got me where I am today."  
  
The crowd erupted into a flurry of chatter as it dispersed. McAlistair tried feebly to draw them back in with kind words of every sort, but they wouldn't hear of it. Within moments, they were all gone, leaving only a few scattered banners and discarded signs as proof of their being there. As for their "hero," he had placed his posterior squarely on the steps, still cradling his Pikachu. Seeing that his chance was gone, McAlistair stormed over, looking for all the world as if a herd of rampaging Tauros couldn't stop him. For a moment, Dixie thought he was going to strike Ash with his shaking fists.   
  
She began advancing on the executive, but she needn't have worried. After the bulk of his anger was spent, McAlistair limited himself to stabbing a finger furiously at Ash. His face was purple with rage, but his voice remained low and under control. "Mr. Ketchum," he growled, "I have never approved of your employment with our corporation. It gives me great pleasure, therefore, to inform you that our partnership is hereby terminated. Enjoy the long walk home, MISTER Ketchum." With that, he turned and stalked off.   
  
Ash didn't even seem to notice him. He just sat there despondently, and despite Dixie and Zephyr's comforting words, he was completely alone.  
* * *  
  
Psi strode down the street in his new body, wearing an uncharacteristic grin on his equally out-of-character face. The years had tempered his exuberant sense of joy, for he knew that joy was detrimental to any job in his line of work. A single moment of happiness, or even the mere thought of joy, could knock the most experienced of agents off balance at a critical moment. So, like all perfect assassins, Psi had learned to control his emotions to the point of where they might not have existed at all.  
  
And as he strolled through the bustling downtown of Bluster, all of that training and control simply vanished. Though the change was only skin deep, a part of him felt like he was twenty years old again, and he was enjoying it so much, it ought to be against the law.  
  
-come to think of it...  
  
But in any case, he was armed with a youthful, killer frame, rather than his usual, wrinkled, killer's frame. With his patented confident smile, and practiced charm that returned after a lifetime of disuse, he turned the head of many a pretty lady from every direction. From what he had read of the boy he was replacing, Brock wasn't much of a ladies' man. Well, that may have been the poor dunce's problem, but it certainly wasn't one of Psi's. Perhaps after he killed the boy, he would go out and enjoy the benefits of his exo-camoflage frame. After all, it had a power supply for several hours, and he didn't anticipate any difficulty in this mission.  
  
He entered the hotel that the kids were staying in, and gave the clerk (a lovely young thing in a tight sweater) a knowing wink, which was returned with bright red cheeks. As he stepped onto the elevator, he double-checked the gas cartridge strapped to his wrist beneath the long sleeve of his stolen orange shirt. Within the small plastic container was a deadly toxin that, when inhaled, would induce a heart attack in the victim, creating a one-hundred-percent fatal, seemingly natural, death every time. The gas itself left no traces, making it all but impossible to discern any foul play in the victim's passing.  
  
The doors of the elevator parted, allowing Psi to step off and make his way to the correct door with slow, measured steps. He knew of Ash's failure in the gym battle, and fully intended on waiting for the boy and his friends to return. He would expose them to the gas, which would not affect him thanks to the filters in his handsome mask, then be off and sipping a congratulatory glass of wine even as the paramedics came across the congregation of corpses. Perhaps a nice red wine would be nice...that often went well with murder, and he so rarely got the chance to drink.  
  
He strode up to the door and gently knocked on it, smiling inwardly. "Misty?" he spoke as softly as his knock, allowing the voice modulators to alter his tone to something far more familiar to the watery wench. "Misty, it's me, Brock. Mind if I come in?"  
  
There came a soft stirring inside, and Psi began reaching for the doorknob to enter. Once inside, all he had to do was wait for Dixie and Ash to return, then-  
  
Psi froze in his tracks as a cold circle of metal pressed suddenly against the base of his skull. Taking only an instant to analyze the situation, he wisely chose to do nothing as the familiar shape dug into his neck. He could hear muffled breathing from behind him, but that was all, which impressed the assassin. If there was one thing Psi could appreciate, it was a person who was capable of sneaking up on him.  
  
"Talk to her," as growling murmur drifted gently into Psi's ear, delicate enough to be sweet nothings from a lover, yet steely and unyielding at the same time. "Tell her you forgot something, and you'll be back later." Seeing as how the man was holding a gun to the bottom of Psi's brain pan, the Team Rocketeer was hard-pressed to refuse the request.  
  
"Misty," Psi spoke as Brock again, "I just remembered, I left my Pokémon at the center. I'll be back later, okay?" Again, a soft stirring was his only response. He was about to inquire as to any further instructions when the barrel of the gun was suddenly lifted, replaced a moment later with blinding pain that drove Psi to his knees. A second jolt sent him into sweet, blissful blackness as the floor loomed at him.  
  
"Sweet dreams, kid." Was the last thing Psi heard for quite a while.  
* * *  
  
Ash and Dixie strode from the Pokécenter, which was conveniently located only a few blocks south of the gym. Ash, as always, was carrying Pikachu, though this time he still had the Pokémon cradled carefully in his arms, even though the nurses at the center had been able to treat his injuries handily. As for Charizard, the dragon had been returned to its ball, no longer any worse for wear, but undoubtedly stinging from the recent, utter defeat.  
  
...just as Ash was.  
  
Ash had done his best to put on a brave front, but it was plain to see that his ego and his self-confidence had both been stung. His head hung lower than it usually did, and as they walked, he didn't even glance to the side when they passed a fast food joint or a street vendor. Dixie wasn't sure, but she thought these to be major warning signs, and so did everything she could to let Ash know she was there. So far, it hadn't worked much.  
  
"Ash..." Dixie slipped an arm around his waist, walking close. "Ash, it's gonna be okay. Y'all did great back there. I'm so proud of you, really I am." She spoke, her accent growing thicker with her concern. His soft amber eyes wore a dull sheen, as if the life had just been drained right out of him. "Ash?"  
  
"Dix..." She let out a tiny gasp, unable to squelch her excitement. It wasn't much, but it was the first thing he had said to her ever since his disastrous speech back at the gym. "Dixie..."  
  
"Yeah, Ash?"  
  
He looked up at her, raising a hand to cradle her face. His touch was electric against her skin, and she shuddered, even though she knew it was the wrong time to be thinking such thoughts. Her lips involuntarily pursed, just a little, as she waited with baited breath. Was he going to...?  
  
"Dix, I...I need some time to myself."  
  
"I...Oh." Was the only reply she could think of. Sagging her shoulders in disappointment, she stopped in her tracks. Disappointment flooded over her, though from what, she wasn't quite certain. Just what had she been expecting? "I guess I understand..."  
  
Seeing her reaction, he quickly tried to convince her otherwise. "No no, not like that!" he insisted vehemently. "Just for an hour or two, that's all. In fact," he unclasped his Pokégear from his wrist and placed it in her hand, closing it with his and enveloping her slender fingers. "Take Gear. I want you to find the fanciest, most romantic restaurant in Bluster City, and make reservations for two at eight-thirty. It'll be my treat, understand?"  
  
"You mean," her eyes began to glimmer once more, "You still want to-"  
  
"Hey," he assured her, caressing her cheek once more, but this time with a half-smile. "After that let-down at the gym, it'll be nice to have something go right today. And anytime I spend with you is right." With that, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I just need to blow off some steam, all right? It's a guy thing."  
  
She smiled, and wrapped him in a hug that threatened to crush both him and Pikachu. Releasing him, she trotted down the street, glancing back over her shoulder. "Eight-thirty, don't forget. You promised!"  
  
"Right on the dot!" he called back, watching her go. Once he was sure she was gone, he allowed himself to sag with depression once more. Pikachu mimicked the fall, slumping down in his arms as if under some new, heavy weight. "Dear God, he murmured as together they made their way down the street, "This has got to be the crappiest day I've had in a long time." He kicked a stray can down a long, dark alley in disgust, cursing his rotten luck. Disgust turned quickly to surprise, however, when the can came streaking back, missing his head by mere inches and sending him ducking low to the streets. "HEY!"  
  
A low chuckling came from the blackened, inky depths before him. It was almost sinister in nature, but Ash was in far too bad of a mood to be intimidated by some lowlife mugger. Pikachu leapt from his arms, landing on all fours and sticking close to the filthy pavement. Sparks flew from the rodent's cheeks, a sure sign that Pikachu was in no mood to be screwed with.  
  
"So," a velvety voice vibrated from inside the inky alley. "This is the great Ash Ketchum of Pallet Town? Former champion of the most heralded league in the world?" The laughter grew, echoing past Ash and through the curiously empty streets. "I have to tell you, I'm not impressed."  
  
"Look," Ash sneered, each of his hands reaching for a Pokéball on his belt, "If you're one of those freaky, loser fans I chewed out, you can just turn around and head for home, because I'm not playing any games."  
  
"Fan?" The voice sneered back. "Who could ever be a fan of yours? Look at you! You use two inferior Pokémon against eight trained experts in an unfamiliar battle." Ash could swear he heard a smirk in the stranger's deep male tone. "You must be an idiot, because I certainly don't see a champion in front of me."  
  
"Call me any names you like," Ash retorted, his fury increasing with each word the unseen stranger spoke, "But if you insult my Pokémon again, I swear to god-"  
  
"God?" The voice continued to snicker, "What does God have to do with any of this?"   
A shape suddenly emerged from the shadows; it was Ash's stalker suddenly taking form. All in all, the stranger was a fairly unimpressive sight. He wore baggy cargo pants, camouflaged black and gray for blending in with his urban environment. A loose fitting hooded sweatshirt covered his chest, black as coal, but lighter still than the stranger's face, which was as dark as the moonless skies in the wilds of the forest that Ash had known so well on his original journey. No eyes peered back at him from the mask; the darkness it wrapped his features in was unfaltering.  
  
"I would think that you, Ash Ketchum, of all people, would know," The man continued, placing a hand on his hips while raising the other to his temple, "That when it comes to Pokémon, it is the Goddess one must consider."  
  
Ash's eyes narrowed with suspicion, even as he felt a sliver of fear strike his soul to the very core. Was the stranger speaking of...? "What do you know about the Pokégoddess?" Ash demanded. He knew little himself, and if the stranger was talking as Ash thought he was-  
  
"Far more than you, Disciple."  
  
That tore it for Ash. "Who are you? How do you know about-"  
  
"Surely you recognize me?" The stranger folded his arms flippantly, a smile forming beneath the mask. "This non-face of mine does get around quite a bit."  
  
"If I did, why would I be asking you?" Ash shot back.  
  
The stranger was clearly floored by this, though he tried to hide it with little success. "Haven't you seen my picture in the newspapers?" The black-clad figure inquired. "Interpol's most wanted fugitive? FBI Top Ten most wanted list?"  
  
"Doesn't ring a bell."  
  
The stranger sighed, throwing up his hands. For a moment, his façade of confidence (if it truly was an act at all) dropped. "Honestly, Ash, would it kill you to pick up a newspaper once in a while?" His tone was nagging, almost maternal, which was odd in and of itself. "It doesn't hurt to keep up with the rest of the world, you know."  
  
"Can we skip to the part where you tell me who you are?"  
  
"PIKA!" Pikachu agreed, sending a few lances of electricity to either side in a display of power and frustration. It didn't like strangers coming up and challenging its trainer, and its tiny patience was just about spent.  
  
Sighing heavily, the stranger gave up. "Solo. My name's Solo, okay?"  
  
"Solo." Ash rolled the unfamiliar name around in his mouth, committing it to memory. His battle stance, however, didn't budge or falter. "So, are you going to tell me how you know about the Goddess, or do we have to go through the ritual song and dance where I paste you across the alley, and 'then' you tell me who you are?" Underneath it all, Ash was a little glad that this fruit basket had shown up. Anyone would agree that he was having a rather bad day, and he wasn't going to feel the least bit guilty about taking it out on this masked nutball.  
  
"You think you can take me on?" Solo laughed. "That's rich. I'll bet you can't even catch me." His hand produced a Pokéball, prestidigitated from nowhere, and released the creature within. Ash shielded his eyes from the dazzling light show, which allowed him to keep enough of his night vision left to see the largest Charizard he had ever laid eyes on. The beast was covered from head to foot in scars that stretched across taut, rippling muscles he didn't even know a Charizard had. His own dragon had quite a bit of strength, certainly, but hidden beneath a rotund 'bulk' that gave it the advantage over lighter Pokémon.  
  
"Quick enough to play follow-the-leader, boy?" Solo hopped onto the back of his Charizard. The beast roared then took off with a mighty flap of its leathery wings. Soon, it was soaring high above, and Ash wasn't sure how long he could keep the duo in sight.  
  
"Don't call me 'boy'!" Ash shouted back. He ripped Pidgeot's Pokéball from his belt and released the enormous bird with a practiced snap of his wrist. With gritted teeth, he kept his eyes sharply trained on the waning dot that was Solo and his Charizard. "Pidgeot," he commanded once the Pokémon had coalesced, "See that Charizard up there?" Pidgeot nodded, having no trouble spotting the flaming fury with its enhanced eyes. "We've got a chase. Fly, Pidgeot!"  
  
Pidgeot's eyes lit with hidden power, emitting a soft amber-gold light as it fluttered into the air. In no time at all, that light had surrounded Ash and Pikachu in mysterious energies that lifted them off as well. Within moments, Pidgeot had managed to close the gap that separated them from Solo's Charizard as they streaked between skyscrapers. As the chase continued, Solo grew cockier and brasher, leading them beneath low-hanging bridges and through a broadcasting tower. Ash nearly lost his head to one of the low girders, ducking only just in time and barely keeping hold of his hat.  
  
"Not bad, kid." Solo called back, forced to admit to himself that the kid had trained his Pidgeot very well. It had taken the mercenary years to train his Charizard to be able to fly thusly. Even though the bird didn't have to deal with the encumbrance thanks to the powers of the Hidden Machines, it was still no easy feat to keep its passengers from crashing into a wayward billboard. "I'm mildly impressed."  
  
"Mildly?" Ash called back in disgust. He couldn't be prouder of Pidgeot right now; the bird had been a bit shaky with its new power before, but now it was maneuvering with...well, with flying colors. "Watch this! Pidgeot," he locked eyes with his Pokémon, "Let's motor! Show him what you've got!"  
  
Pidgeot trilled an affirmative, then put on a burst of speed that shook the windows of every skyscraper within a block of their location. The acceleration burst easily carried them past Solo, nearly knocking the Charizard out of the air as the bird and its two golden aura hitchhikers blew past.   
  
Below them, Ash could hear several car alarms wailing at the force of the shock wave that trailed behind him. His eyes began to water, but he didn't care. All he could think of was the rush he felt as Pidgeot carried them through a series of death-defying stunts through the artificial obstacles that the city had constructed all around them. Buildings flew past and balconies shuddered as they spiraled up and through the city, creating blasts of air that put the windy city's famous meteorology to shame. At last, when he was certain that Solo was one-upped, he pointed out the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Bluster, a high-rise apartment with a rooftop garden, and ordered a landing.  
  
Pidgeot touched down flawlessly, lowering its passengers gently to the grassy rooftop before releasing them from its mystic hold. Ash waited smugly for several moments as Solo caught up, setting his Charizard down with a floor-shuddering thud that nearly threw the merc trainer off of his Pokémon.   
  
Solo disembarked, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead and acknowledging Ash and his Pokémon with a salute. "I have to admit, kid, that was some flying. You must have worked with Pidgeot for months on something like that."  
  
"Years, as a matter of fact." Ash rubbed Pidgeot on its beak as it trilled happily at the praise. "It just got the glowing-thingie power a few weeks ago, but we've been working on that, too. Right, buddy?"  
  
"Pidgyoo!"  
  
"I didn't hear you calling out any orders to your Pokémon there..." Solo commented, leaning against his Charizard, which was breathing heavily from the invigorating chase. Solo, conversely, was the picture of calm and cool.  
  
"Sure." Ash commented. "Pidgeot knows how to fly on its own. Why on earth would I have to tell it how to do everything? That's just stupid training."  
  
"You mean like you did back at the gym?"  
  
"I-" Ash had no answer at this. He stopped in his tracks, choking on the irony. "That's different." He insisted, trying desperately to save face as he recalled Pidgeot into its ball. "The two situations-"  
  
"Uh-huh." Solo rolled his eyes beneath his mask. "You know what? I think we need a battle."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Solo stepped back, allowing his Charizard to step forward. The hulking brute snorted, sending rings of smoke from its nostrils as it sized Ash up. "What, do I have to take a swipe at your Pikachu to get you to battle? Do I need a gigantic 'R' on my chest? Let's go; Charizard to Charizard."  
  
Ash twisted his hat around, then pulled Charizard's ball from his belt after replacing Pidgeot's. "All right. You want a fight so bad? I'll give it to you. Charizard, GO!"  
* * *  
  
Misty sat propped up in bed, flipping through the manual for Ash's Pokédex as she sipped delicately on a glass of water. Nothing would have hit the spot quite like a cup of ginger tea at the moment, but considering their financial squeeze, she dare not even consider giving room service a call. As it was, she wasn't sure how Brock had managed to acquire the medicine that was, for the moment, keeping her cold symptoms at bay. Her pharmaceutically befogged mind twitched involuntarily at the thought of the burly trainer. She could vaguely recall him coming to her door during her hours of unconsciousness, but since there wasn't any sign of him, she could only assume it had been a dream. After all, if it had been Brock, he would have at least left a note for her before splitting.   
  
Dreaming about Brock...that was all she needed.  
  
As for Dexter, the device in question sat atop her nightstand, sandwiched between hers and Dixie's bed. She had left it deactivated until she could find a solution to its predicament. Before she had read the manual, she had held little hope of their ever repairing the wayward device on their own. Yet, after reading the maintenance section of the comprehensive (and impossibly verbose) text, she knew exactly what had to be done.   
  
She was just finishing off her water when Dixie entered the room with a hangdog expression on her face long enough to catch beneath her size seven footfalls. Misty craned her neck, trying to spy if Ash, Brock, or Pikachu was behind her, but as Dixie closed the door behind her, it was evident that she had returned alone. "Hey Dix...What happened?" Misty asked, setting the text aside.  
  
Dixie returned her greeting, plopping down on her bed. Her shoulders sagged so much so that it took little effort for her to slide her jacket from her shoulders. "Ain't y'all heard? Ash lost the match at the gym."  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
"It gets worse." Dixie warned her. She stood up, suddenly filled with an uncharacteristic anger. Furious, she threw her jacket across the room, which landed harmlessly on a beat-up, filthy chair in the corner. "Some weasel of a representative from Silph showed up. After Ash lost his temper, he cut our funding. We're on our own now."  
  
"Oh no!" Misty's hand flew to her mouth. Quickly, she threw aside the covers, standing on unsteady legs and clad only in her pajamas. "Where is he? Where's Brock? We have to figure something out, quick!" Despite her enthusiasm, Misty had to catch herself on the edge of her bed. The medicines were still making her a touch dizzy, and try though she might, she still couldn't put her drug-dulled mind over her wobbly body.  
  
"Easy!" Dixie didn't miss her near-fall, and eased her back down onto the bed. Misty grumbled, but did nothing else to fight. The sickening truth was, she was grateful for the help. "Look, Ash said he needed some time to himself-"  
  
"Lousy little twerp," Misty muttered, "He's probably just nursing his ego after the loss."  
  
"Well, you'd know better than I do." Dixie assured her, standing once more and going to her bag. "Anyway, I'm not sure what happened to Brock. We lost track of him before the match, but Ash said that it was nothing to worry about."  
  
"True enough." Misty nodded. Even after all these years, they could never tell when their friend was going to run off chasing a skirt. In any case, there was no one on Earth she trusted more to take care of himself than Brock Stone.  
* * *  
  
Brock Stone had no idea what he was going to do.  
  
He had awoken some time after Psi had left wearing his clothes. Consciousness brought with it a very large, very painful welt on the side of his head that felt like it was growing to be the size of a Skiploom...a very large, very painful Skiploom. Other than that, nothing else had changed; he was still half-naked, strapped to a chair in the middle of some strange warehouse, surrounded by boxes on three sides, and three blockheads on the other.  
  
Even worse was that his ticket to freedom sat just out of reach, sitting on a wooden box not five feet away. They had been stupid enough to leave his Pokéballs in plain sight, but smart enough to make certain that there was nothing he could do about it. He had to think, had to look for any opportunity he could take advantage of. He may only get one...  
  
He had watched the Rocket trio as they eagerly waited for the return of their Omega keeper. Oddly enough, they seemed to go through a cycle; first, there would be peaceful silence. Then one of them would do something to annoy another. When that other complained, the third one would step in and tell them to shut up (usually it was Jessie or Meowth). When that happened, total chaos would erupt, usually ending in some sort of brawl. All in all, the whole circle lasted about five minutes before beginning anew. Finally, with the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky, they seemed to have settled into some kind of temporary truce as dinner was being prepared.  
  
James labored over a camp stove, burning several strips of bacon as Jessie worked with another portable hotplate to turn a pot of rice into a solid lump of white goo. Meowth, in the meantime, was trying to peel potatoes, but found that the peeler fit poorly into his tiny paws. Finally, the cat couldn't stand it any more, and threw peeler and potato to the floor. The potato, being of rather poor quality, bounced back up and struck him squarely in the forehead, knocking him back into Jessie, who ended up spilling boiling water on James' leg.  
  
"GAAAAHHHH!" the effeminate Rocket screeched, clutching his soaked uniform as he howled in pain. Jessie apologized quickly as Meowth picked himself back up. "Hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot-hot!" James moaned, clawing at his thigh.  
  
"Oh Meowth, now look what you've done!" Jessie sighed, taking a half-hearted swipe at the feline before attempting to salvage what remained of dinner. "Looks like Team Rocket's fasting off again."  
  
'Hello, sweet opportunity,' Brock thanked providence. 'I hear you knocking, so hold on, 'cause here I come!'  
  
"It wasn't worth eating anyway." Brock smirked, ignoring the throbbing pain drilling into his skull. "I've seen better food on a Denny's menu picture."  
  
Jessie snorted, standing up and knocking the rest of the rice pot right into James' lap. "And what makes you think you could do better?" She demanded, raising her voice to be heard over James' shrieking. "What do you know, anyway? You're tied to a chair."  
  
"Fair enough." Brock smiled inwardly. They had taken the hook. Now it was time to reel them in, nice and slow. "I just thought maybe you guys would like something actually edible, like...oh, I don't know...Fry-Up Surprise?"  
  
"Fry-Up Surprise?" James forgot all about the searing pain. His mouth was watering so badly that rivulets of drool were escaping the corners of his mouth. Meowth would have laughed at this, but his own saliva was kicking into overdrive at the thought of Brock cooking up something for them. After all, through the years they had been chasing the little dorks, they never failed to catch whiff of whatever Brock cooked for those ungrateful philistines, and it always smelled heavenly. "What's in that?"  
  
"Oh, it's sort of a secret..." Brock said coyly. He leaned back in his chair, tilting the mobile, makeshift prison on its back legs. "Rice, bacon, beef, peppers, carrots...and of course, my special ingredient." He sighed heavily, hamming it up. "But I guess you guys wouldn't-"  
  
James rushed over and began tugging against Brock's bonds frantically. The Rock Master could already feel the ropes being loosened, and the process was quickened when Meowth joined the fray. James, in the meantime, was cackling gleefully. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!" he squealed. "We finally get to eat a decent-"  
  
Jessie clobbered him on the skull with her blackjack, knocking him aside before she booted Meowth away from the prisoner. "You two dunces! Can't you think for one single moment without your sto-" She paused, thinking something over. Then, curiously, she bent down and whispered to Brock, "Were those yellow peppers, or red peppers."  
  
"Whichever you prefer." Brock whispered back. "It works both ways."  
  
"Really?" It was her turn to squeal. She managed to regain control of herself after a moment, clearing her throat. "Well, if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right." She pulled one of her own Pokéballs from her jacket and threw it to the ground, releasing her slithering Arbok. "Arbok, keep an eye on the prisoner while we're gone. Boys," She addressed James and Meowth as they dusted themselves off, "We've got some supplies to swipe."  
  
Brock sighed with relief as they walked off. So far, phase one of his plan was going well. He just hoped that he could come up with a phase two before those nimrods returned. Even now, he could feel Arbok breathing down his neck. Whatever he did, he knew his plan needed to include taking down the none-too-friendly snake behind him.  
  
"So, Arbok..." Brock managed to force out of his terror-frozen lips, trying his best to sound casual. "Which do you prefer; red peppers, or yellow peppers?"  
* * *  
  
"Well, I guess you're right." Dixie nodded. "No sense in worrying about Brock."  
  
Misty, in the meantime, had tilted her head as Dixie had taken to digging through her bag in an almost frantic manner. "Dix, what on earth are you doing? You're getting clothes everywhere."  
  
"Huh?" Dixie peeked up from underneath a pair of pink jeans. "Oh, the clothes. Well, I'm trying to find something to wear for tonight." She kept digging, tossing aside perfectly acceptable articles of clothing as if they were headed for Goodwill. "Jeez, I should have gone shopping."  
  
The redhead frowned. Tonight? What was Dixie talking about? Waaaaiiit a minute...she could vaguely recall Ash talking about something like that before he had left. Blast that medication! Now what was it? Going to gym...no. Read up on Dexter...no. Date with-  
  
Oh no.  
  
"Oh." Misty blurted out. "Oh! Your, uh...your thing with Ash, the, uh-"  
  
"The date." Dixie looked up, pulling her favorite blouse off of her face and tossing it aside. "Yeah."  
  
"Oh, but I guess Ash canceled on you after the match-"  
  
"No, that's the cool thing." Dixie grinned, and Misty had to force herself to fight down the urge to strangle the smile right off of her. "After the match, he practically insisted on taking me out tonight." She sighed, her eyes growing starry. "He said such wonderful things." Regaining her focus, she gave Misty a serious look. "I just want things to go perfect."  
  
"Oh." Misty said again, this time with even less enthusiasm.   
  
"Misty..." Dixie hesitated a moment, which made her friend suspicious. "I, uh...I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?"  
  
"Favor? What kind of favor?" Her curiosity piqued.  
  
The southern belle rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she hadn't said anything at all. With flushed cheeks, she waved it off. "Never mind, it isn't impor-"  
  
"No, seriously!" Misty insisted. She didn't know what to make of this whole 'date' thing, but maybe if Dixie wanted her to do something, it would occupy her mind away from the notion. "C'mon, what's the problem?"  
  
"Well," Dixie's blush worsened, "It's just that...well, you and Ash used to date, right?" Misty nodded as her heart grew numb. "I was just wondering if y'all could, y'know, give me a few pointers to maybe make things go more smoothly."  
  
Misty's mind became a spinning top of emotions and thoughts that she couldn't control much less understand. Was Dixie asking what Misty thought she was asking? Suddenly, the jumble of feelings came together and struck her with an idea, a purpose that she could not ignore nor explain. With a wicked smile, her heart shrank to grinch-like proportions as the idea sunk into her befuddled mind. Without knowing what she was thinking, she knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
"So..." Misty drawled, "You want things to go perfect on your little date with Ash?" Her smile was sickeningly sweet.  
  
Dix nodded. "It is our first date, after all-"  
  
"Well then!" Misty cut her off, rubbing her hands together briskly. "We'd best get started. First off," she crossed the room, "We'll work on your wardrobe. What were you thinking of wearing?"  
  
"This." Dixie proudly held up a small pink tank top and a pair of faded blue jeans. Holding the outfit over her front, she looked to Misty for an opinion. "What do you think? Is it cute enough?"  
  
The outfit, when slipped onto Dixie's slender, curved frame, would look absolutely stunning. Misty was certain that if Ash caught sight of the blonde bombshell wearing that combo, his eyes would bug out of his head.  
  
After a moment of careful consideration, Misty shook her head. "No. No, that's not going to do at all."  
  
"Really? I thought-"  
  
"Nu-uh." Misty insisted, rending it easily from Dixie's shocked hands and tossing it aside. "It's way too slutty...no offense." She began rudely digging through the other girl's bag, casting clothes across the room in search of the "perfect" outfit. At last, she emerged from the bag triumphant with a cry of victory. "Here we go! This is perfect."  
  
Dixie's mouth went slack at the sight of her old, tattered sweat clothes. The sweatshirt had a number of holes in it, and the mismatching sweatpants were covered with paints of all colors from the month she and her grandfather had repainted his gothic lair/lab. "Um, those are my old work-out clothes."  
  
"Exactly!" Misty's brain raced to think of a reason why it was 'exactly.' "You, uh, you know what an active imagination Ash has. He, uh...he likes to imagine his date in something sexy."  
  
For a moment, it didn't appear that Dixie would buy into the line of crap that Misty had just fed her. She felt a droplet of sweat running down the back of her neck until Dixie took the clothes from her with an uneasy smile. "I guess you know best..."  
  
Misty returned the smile, sighing inwardly. If she could convince Dixie to wear sweat pants on her first date with Ash, then she was in the clear. "Now, about the rest of your date. I know it's kind of strange, but listen to me, and you'll be locking lips in no time."  
  
"Great!" Dixie leaned, looking over Misty's shoulder. "I want our first kiss to be really special."  
Misty's jaw dropped, as did the scattered clothing she held. "Y-y-you h-hu..."  
  
"Naw, I haven't kissed him yet... least not the way I'd like to." She giggled, covering her rose-petal lips.  
  
If any hesitation had existed in Misty's mind, it vanished as the image of Dixie's lips pressed sensually against Ash's replaced anything else. She stood up, her knuckles cracking as they balled into fists. "Now," she forced between gritted teeth, "We need to cover some other tips for your date tonight."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"For starters," she began pacing the room, thinking of the best way to sink the date without ever realizing exactly 'why' she was doing it. It just came naturally...which would have disturbed her if she had been thinking clearly at all. "You need to act cold through the entire date. And by cold, I mean absolutely frigid. Sub-zero. Absolute zero, even."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Look, it's really simple." Misty winked as if to reassure her. "Ash loves it when a girl plays hard to get. He and Brock are the same way."  
  
"But in Brock's case, it never works."  
  
"Well, that's Brock." Misty shrugged. "Anyway, trust me; the more you resist Ash, the more he'll be all over you. But don't let up! You have to keep it on until he's gone crazy with passion and desire. Then, when he can't take any more...BAM!" Dixie jumped as Misty drove her fist into her palm, finishing with an excited leap on top of the bed. "He'll melt like butter-flavored putty in your hands."  
  
"Hmmm." Dixie ticked off of her fingers. "Dress like a skeezoid, and act like an ice-queen." Looking up at Misty with expectant eyes, she asked, "Is there anything else?" It was hard to believe, but Dixie was falling for every last one of Misty's tricks.  
  
Rubbing her palms together once more, Misty could only smile at the poor fool's misfortune. "We're just getting started, dear."  
* * *  
  
Ash gritted his teeth as he took another swing at Solo, sending his fist crashing at Solo's chortling head. The masked man expertly ducked the shot, slipping around to the side and mocking Ash with each whiff that the teen took. In the background of their fight, their two Charizards were locked hand in hand. Ash's plumper Charizard was trying to overpower Solo's specimen, but the stronger 'Zard was clearly prevailing without putting in half the effort its opponent was. In the meantime, Ash was having equal luck taking on Solo.  
  
Solo sidled past another awkward fist, laughing out loud at Ash's poor fighting abilities. "Is that the best you can do, chump? I've seen grandmothers fight better than you!" He gave Ash a hearty shove, sending the teen stumbling away. Ash stumbled over his own feet, landing squarely on his bottom. He ignored the pain, using the burning humiliation he felt to fuel his rage.  
  
"I'd like to see a grandmother drive your teeth into the back of your head," Ash growled, picking himself back up and charging at Solo with a kamikaze punch. "Because that's what I'm going to do!"  
  
"Look at you!" Solo laughed again, catching Ash's fist. He began squeezing Ash's hand until the pain became unbearable, driving the boy to his knees. "This is just like your match with Zephyr."  
  
"You seem to think you could have done better, given the circumstances," Ash grunted through his teeth, trying not to cry out in pain. He could feel his knuckles starting to give under the pressure, creaking and cracking, straining against Solo's superior strength. Any more, and Solo would break every one of his fingers. "If you're so smart..."  
  
"That's just it, kid." Solo stopped the pressure right where it was, keeping Ash in a painful grip. In the background, Ash could hear his Charizard still losing the contest of strength. By now, the beast was on its knees, trying desperately, as Ash was, to avoid any broken digits. Solo's Charizard, on the other hand, had taken to beating Ash's with its thick tail, clubbing the other about the head brutally without remorse. Solo, in the meantime, continued his tirade. "It's not that I'm fighting smarter. It's that 'you're' fighting stupid."  
  
"I know you are," Ash growled, "But what am I?"  
  
Solo sighed, but did not release his iron grip. "I'm obviously stronger than you, and clearly a better fighter, just like Zephyr was more experienced and better equipped for the match you fought today."  
  
Ash could feel an epiphany coming, which was usually never good, and almost always came in tandem with a headache. Thinking tended to do that to the young trainer. "So?"  
  
"So," Solo continued, you did just what you always do; something stupid." The older man pointed to where Ash's Charizard was being beaten as easily as a kitten. "You decided that you couldn't handle all your Pokémon at once. When you found out you could use more than you had, you didn't stop the match to get those extra two; oh, no, you decided to go with a quarter of Zephyr's fighting force."  
  
"Easy to criticize when you're watching it on a screen."  
  
Solo ignored him. "Worse yet, you decided to micro-manage the wrong side of the match. You should have been with Charizard every step of the way, and trusted Pikachu to handle the defense. Instead, you went with your little favorite there, and it cost you the match."  
  
Pikachu snarled at Solo from the sidelines, sparking and preparing to charge. Ash raised his hand to stop him. "NO! Pikachu, stay back." His glare of fury matched Pikachu's as he stared hard into Solo's blank mask. "He's right."   
  
"Good." Solo praised Ash smugly, but refused to let up. In fact, his pressure doubled, giving Ash an incentive to think even faster. "Now, what should you have done?"  
  
"What I'm going to do." Ash suddenly twisted his wrist, forcing Solo to try and re-apply his grip. "Make my own opening." As the older man fumbled, Ash slipped inside and grabbed him under the armpit, allowing his hip to slide next to Solo's. "Look for a weakness." Before the older man could stop him, Ash twisted around and tossed Solo with all of his and the other man's combined might, sending Solo flying halfway across the roof. "And trust my Pokémon." He rubbed his wrist for a split instant, then looked over to where Charizard lay on the ground. "Charizard; improvise."  
  
Charizard roared, sweeping his tail upward. The bright flame that burned at the tip flared into its opponent's eyes, momentarily blinding the stronger dragon. Charizard seized the opportunity, leaping up and wrapping its claws around the other's neck. Shifting their tremendous bulks around, Charizard soon had its opponent on the ground, with itself placed atop and poised to strike.  
  
"Not bad." Solo picked himself up. "Not bad at all." He cracked his neck noisily, shifting the bones back into place. "Where'd you learn a move like that?"  
  
Ash smirked, calling his Charizard off. "A friend of mine showed me that. Said she learned it tossing her sisters away from her own birthday cake when it came time to pick slices."  
  
"Heh. Sounds like a dangerous lady."  
  
"She likes to think so."   
  
Solo offered him a hand and a grin, stepping forward slowly so as not to give Ash the wrong idea. Ash took the hand, but he kept his eye on Solo in case the mercenary tried anything stupid. "Considering how you handle your Pokémon, it's no surprise that you're the youngest ever to activate your powers."  
  
"Powers?"  
  
"During the match." Solo's expressionless mask stared back down at him. "Didn't you feel it?"  
  
Ash tried to recall. There were several parts of the match where he had trouble remembering what happened...almost as if it were in a haze. "No." he admitted.  
  
"You will, kid. Soon, too." Solo pulled his empty Pokéball from his belt and pointed it at his brawny Charizard. "Hope you're ready."  
Ash saw Solo recalling his Charizard, then starting for the edge of the roof.   
"Hey, wait a minute! You're not going anywhere." Ash, Pikachu, and Charizard started to advance on Solo just as he reached the edge of the skyscraper. "Tell me what you know about the Goddess. Do you know something about my destiny? What are these 'powers' you mentioned?"   
  
With the setting sun falling behind them, Solo was cast in an eerie glow of reds and yellows, like a fallen angel. The man turned to take one last look at the boy and his Pokémon. Ash might have been mistaken, but there was almost a longing in the way Solo was sizing him up...almost as if he didn't really want to go. That was ridiculous, though. Ash had just met him, and didn't know the first thing about him. He certainly didn't trust him, even if the nut job had helped him get his head back on straight.  
  
"Every man must find his own destiny, Ash." Solo spoke slowly and evenly. He produced a small item from the ether, palming it briefly as if in consideration, then ultimately tossing it to Ash. "Here, catch!" Ash fumbled for the item, jamming it in his pocket before he could even examine it briefly. "Sometimes strength isn't a weakness after all. Remember that. And remember also; the Goddess works in mysterious ways. She'll reveal her hand in time. Until we meet again, Ashlan Terrance Ketchum."   
  
With that, Solo stepped off of the edge before Ash or his Pokémon could do anything about it. They rushed to the rooftop's threshold and peered over, but Solo had vanished without a trace. He had exited with as much mystery as he had both entered with and existed around.   
  
Frowning, Ash plunged his hands back into his pockets and dug out the small item that Solo had given him. Immediately upon laying eyes on the tiny thing, his jaw went slack with shock. A slow smile dawned on his lips as the sun set. With evening on its way, he knew he had little time to act. After all, he had a date with an angel, and if he played his cards right, the time before that wouldn't be a total wash.  
* * *  
  
"Slowly now. Don't make any funny moves, see?"  
  
Brock nodded, standing up slowly and trying to work the kinks out of his legs. It was pretty likely that he'd need to run if things didn't go his way. Having returned successfully from their ingredient raid, Jessie and James had then proceeded to set up his cooking equipment exactly to his specifications (which, he had to admit, they were quite diligent about, which suggested at least some competence in lackeying on their part). After it was all done, they had untied Brock with a swipe of Meowth's razor claws.  
  
"Now," Meowth snarled, "Make wit da cookin', and don't try any funny stuff."  
  
"Gee," Brock rolled his eyes, "It's always been my dream to cook for three kidnappers while clad in my boxers and being policed by an enormous snake and a cat who talks like he's from Harlem." Meowth's paw dug into his bare leg, and with a wince, he corrected, "Brooklyn. Sorry."  
  
"Gee..." James scratched his head. "That sure is a funny dream-"  
  
"Quiet you!" Jessie threatened him with her blackjack, which shut her other half up rather quickly. Then she shook the black bag of sand at Brock, giving him the same warning. "Just cook. No commentary!"  
  
"You're the shrieking boss, Jessie." Brock acknowledged. He bent down to look at the cooking instruments laid out before him. All in all, it was a fairly pitiful sight, but he had cooked with worse. "I'll be needing an assistant."  
  
James stepped forward. "That'd be me. I drew the short straw." He looked back at Jessie and rubbed the lump on his head that he had walked in with. Brock could only smile at Jessie's methods of persuasion, sickening though they were. "What do you need me to do?"  
  
"All right, let's see." Brock started the cooking stove, letting his hand drift over the heating plate. The air had already begun to shimmer as the temperature climbed to sizzling degrees. With a satisfied nod, he began handing everything he could to James. "I need you to hold this...and these...and those...oh, and hang on to that for me, too." Before long, James was laden with a ladle, a cast-iron cooking pot, an assortment of vegetables, including peppers (both red and yellow), frozen slabs of beef, and a large black frying pan. "Hold on..."  
  
"Are you sure you need me to hold all of this?" James struggled under the massive weight, teetering back and forth.  
  
"Hmmm..." Brock eyed the stack, searching for something. "Oh, wait. I need this." He drew the large frying pan out, hefting it experimentally in his right hand. "Yeah, that's the one."  
  
"Whew," James sighed, still struggling under the now-diminished weight. "Thanks a lot."  
  
"No," Brock smiled sweetly, "Thank you." He drew the frying pan back and clocked James on the head as hard as he could, striking his blue-haired temple. James was blissfully unconscious before he ever hit the ground. Then, before Jessie could respond, Brock brought the frying pan around full-circle, using the momentum to send Jessie into sweet, painful dreams.  
  
"Meowth!" The cat screamed at his partners kissed the sawdust littering the warehouse's floor. "I knew we couldn't trust ya!"  
  
"Then why did you?" Catching the back of Meowth's charm with his ankle, he slammed the cat's face down onto the heating element of the camp stove. Meowth reeled back, clutching his face in pain, and so was unable to see nor block Brock's foot at it sent the Poké-feline flying. He landed in a heap several boxes back, out of sight and no longer a threat.  
  
Brock was just about to congratulate himself on a brilliant plan (brilliant in comparison to his captors, anyway), when he heard a low, rumbling hiss in his ear. Without even bothering to turn and pratfall at the terrifying sight of Arbok, he instead leapt for his Pokémon sitting in their containment spheres atop the box nearby. Rolling off of the top of the box, Brock picked one at random and held down the control button until it clicked, signaling it's readiness.  
  
"Chew on this!" Brock tossed the ball over his shoulder, turning to coordinate the battle. With a burst of photonic energy, one of Brock's Pokémon took shape on the battlefield, squaring off against Arbok with blazing eyes. Brock took one look at his accidental pick, then groaned, "Oh boy."  
  
"Pineco!" Pineco bounced up and down on its inverted peak, trying without success to intimidate the hundred and ten pound terror with its flapping sheafs. "Pine! Co, pineco!"  
  
"Well, I suppose a good chef cooks with what he has." Brock muttered. "Pineco! Jump into Arbok's mouth!"   
  
Pineco complied unquestioningly, leaping in between Arbok's slavering fangs and hopelessly wedged itself in. Arbok gagged at first, then began clamping down. In moments, it would bite cleanly through Pineco, leaving only shards of bark behind.  
  
'Just another part of the plan, right?' Brock thought to himself with a hard swallow. "Pineco, use Explosion now!" Pineco erupted into a ball of flames before Arbok could chomp through it or spit it out, engulfing the snake's head in fire and blasting it back into the wall. Pineco fell to the ground, charred and unconscious, but still alive.   
  
Brock recalled it into its Pokéball, lamenting over having to use such tactics. He had been trying for the longest time to teach Pineco different techniques, but without a great deal of success. When one is a hopping pine cone without any limbs, elemental control, or even mobility, one has to rely on what one knows, and in this case, Pineco knew how to blow crap up. "Great job, Pineco..." Brock murmured to the tiny ball, shrinking it back to mobile size and gathering up the others.  
  
He set about repurposing the rope that had held him only moments before, using it to tie up Jessie, James, and Meowth after recalling Arbok into its ball. He pulled a page out of their book and placed their Pokémon on the same box they had kept his on. After that, he was all set to hightail it out of there, when suddenly he came down with an attack of conscience. Looking back at the battered trio, he felt rather guilty for using their own hunger to trick them. True, they had done it to him and his friends any number of times, but was he really like them? There was only one honorable thing to do...  
  
Sighing, Brock began setting up the cooking supplies once again. "Well, it wouldn't be right to waste all this food you stole anyway, right?" He rationalized to the insensate Rockets as he began to bake and fry.  
* * *  
  
Wind strolled the arena floor of his father's gym with a broom in his hand and a song on his lips. He swept at the shattered debris left behind from Zephyr's battle with Ash, making a note of where the floor would need to be repaired. He had to admit, even though Zephyr hadn't been using his strongest Pokémon, he was still incredibly impressed with the way the former champion had battled. Using only two Pokémon, Ash had sent Wind's father on a run for his money, keeping him on his toes until the last minute.  
  
"It'll be a long time b'fore we see another match like that one, eh, Pops?" Wind spoke into his headset, speaking with his father on the direct link to the control booth high above. "That Ketchum lad had you on the ropes for a few minutes back there."  
  
Zephyr's voice came back through his earpiece, "Maybe so, lad, but I reckon he has some lessons yet to learn before he gets to be as good as they say he is."  
  
Wind was about to reply when the gym's doors burst inward with a terrific bang. Wind jumped three feet in the air, tossing his broom aside as the dark silhouette in the doorway made its way indoors. He ripped a Pokéball from his pocket and expanded it, shaking it at the intruder. "Who are ya? I'm warnin' you, I-"  
  
"Wind." The figure solidified in the dim lights of the gym, his face materializing beneath a worn, weathered red-white hat. "Take it easy, it's just me." Pikachu plodded along at Ash's side, looking up at Wind holding one of its comrades in the containment sphere against them.  
  
Wind shrank the Pokéball back to its original size, clutching his chest. "Ash! Saints above, you scared the bejesus out of me." He panted.  
  
"Sorry." Ash glanced back at the door, "The breeze caught it before I could grab onto it. Guess we kind of scared you, huh?" Pikachu nodded, clamoring up Ash's pant let and climbing up onto its perch atop his shoulder.   
  
"Listen, is your dad around?"  
  
*Right here, Ash.* Zephyr's voice echoed across the awing arena, giving Ash the scare this time rather than Wind. He clutched his hat lest it be knocked off by his startled leap, hanging on to Pikachu with the other hand. *Sorry. I forgot, this sound system 'is' kind of spooky.*  
Ash looked up at the control booth, waving both his arms to signal Zephyr.   
  
"ZEPHYR!" he shouted, "HAVE YOU GUYS GOT ENOUGH TIME FOR A QUICK MATCH?"  
  
*Well,* Zephyr's voice rang true, *We were closin' up shop for the night, but I suppose we could squeeze in a quick match. Whadda ya think, Wind?*  
  
"Sure thing, Pops!"  
  
"THAT'S GREAT!" Ash shouted back, giving the unseen gym leader the thumb's up.  
  
*Now stop shouting. I can hear you fine through the external microphones.*  
  
"OH! I mean, oh."  
  
It only took a few moments for the combatants to get to their respective corners, with Wind once again acting as moderator. Zephyr took a few minutes to pull Wind aside and give him special instruction. The boy glanced at Ash with a strange smile on his face, then raced off to ascend to the control booth while his father took residence in the red trainer's booth.   
  
Ash felt the familiar jerk of the platform rising high above, even as the battlefield began to form in tandem. This time, the walls rose as a cascading wave, so Ash had at least some idea as to their formation. Instead of a maze, they now would act more like crisscrossing barriers to keep Pokémon from taking a straight shot for their opponents' flag. He nodded in approval at the set-up; mazes seldom agreed with Ash. He could still recall the time he had bought the puzzle book two years back, despite Misty's warning, and had yet to complete a single one (much to the girl's amusement). Strategies began forming in the teen's brain, forming complex assaults and counter-assaults. This was the kind of thinking he excelled at, and it was about to show.  
  
"Pikachu," Ash spoke crisply into the comm as he pulled a small, familiar device from his backpack and clipped it to his ear. With a flick of its tiny switch, Ash felt a warm, fuzzy feeling expanding over his gray matter, followed quickly by a pounding, shrieking headache. Wincing, Ash addressed his first Pokémon. "Buddy, when this all starts, you're going to be in charge of keeping this flag right where it is. Keep 'em goin' strong, okay?"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu nodded, adjusting its headset to rest better in its ears. "Pikachu. Cha!"  
  
"A'right." Ash began drawing Pokéballs out of his jacket, until he had set four of them into the eight slots in front of him. Then he dialed up Zephyr on the monitor, replacing the status monitor with the old redhead's image. "So, are you ready for a serious match? No kid gloves this time?"  
  
Zephyr smiled. "Now why would ya think I was using kid gloves last time?"  
  
"Because I actually stood a chance with only two Pokémon. Now, let's make this one to remember."  
  
"One second." Zephyr switched his screen over to view Wind, who was steadfast at the controls. "Wind, have you done what I asked you, yet?"  
  
"Almost, Pops." Wind tapped his panel, working his way into the local broadcast networks. In moments, he would have them under his expert control. With a triumphant cry, he tapped the control panel. "All set, dad. Let's rock and roll!"  
* * *  
  
McAlistair sat in his presidential suite, sipping on a glass of wine (both of which paid for by Silph expense accounts) as he lamented on his company's extravagant spending regarding the Ketchum boy. He poured over the numbers, sitting atop a designer couch, setting his glass down. "Honestly, where does he get off spending a hundred dollars a week on food for four people and six Pokémon?"  
  
The door suddenly burst open, startling McAlistair and causing him to knock over his wine, which ironically wasted twice as much money as the children had spent on food. Before McAlistair could begin reprimanding his assistant, a short, portly man whose name wasn't important enough to remember, the man managed to huff out, "Sir, there's something you have to see!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Someone pirated the local Fox network!" his assistant forced between rubbery lips, bending over after his thirteen-story marathon to get to McAlistair. "They've usurped the local programming."  
  
"Hmf. It's about time, too." McAlistair poured himself another glass, sipping on it delicately. "That network is an abomination to the airwaves."  
  
"That's not all!" Snatching up the remote, McAlistair's assistant flipped the station to the network in question. What should have been another endless repeat of The Simpsons was instead an enormous Silph logo, filling the entire screen as though it were a silent monolith. "Take a look at this!"  
  
"Hmm. Interesting..." McAlistair examined the screen, then promptly returned to this numbers. "Prepare an official apology to the Fox Broadcasting Network, then ask our numbers division to calculate the local influx of marketing from this golden tidbit of free advertising."  
  
"Wait!" His hysterical assistant pointed a chubby finger at the screen as a voice came through.  
  
"The Silph Corporation proudly presents," The screen's logo dissolved to show an aerial view of a very familiar gym, in which two tiny combatants were seen prepping their forces as the walls of the gym began to rise. Though the image was blurry and flickering, McAlistair could swear he saw a tiny yellow Pikachu standing next to a red and white blob seated atop the blue podium. "The rematch of the century! Ash Ketchum returns to the Bluster City Gym to one again take on the reigning champion, Zephyr Breeze."  
  
McAlistair snorted his wine, sending twenty dollars worth of the stuff up through his nose before recovering with his pocket handkerchief. "Get me the broadcasting tower. Shut down this event, and prepare a press statement denying any Silph involvement." His assistant stood there, quivering, until McAlistair screamed "GO!" He picked up his cellular phone and grabbed his suit coat from its hanger, storming out the door a moment later. McAlistair didn't care how the boy had done it, but he would surely make the boy pay for all of this.  
* * *  
  
"I'm your bonny announcer, Wind Breeze." Wind spoke into his microphone, controlling the camera angles and various shots as his voice, along with the match preliminaries, were broadcasted out to the people of Bluster in stereo. Far below, his father had already selected his toughest Pokémon, ensuring that this would be a match to really remember. Ash, it seemed, had already registered four of his Pokémon, which meant that, while he had effectively doubled his forces from last time, he was still outmatched two-to-one. "So far, our challenger has selected four Pokémon. However, for our viewers at home not familiar with the rules, he can insert up to another four anytime during the match, so watch out!"  
  
Ash stood on his blue platform far below, waiting for the signal to the start of the match. His fingers clutched the edge of the podium, partly due to his rising nervousness, and partly due to the slamming headache that his Psychic Facilitator was giving him. As much as he hated the device, though, he knew it was absolutely necessary for what he had planned. Reaching around, he felt the small, hefty package in his backpack, already loaded with the even smaller object that Solo had given him. He hoped that it wouldn't come to using it, but it was best to be-  
  
*MATCH BEGIN!*  
  
"Pokéteam, go!" Ash shouted, launching his other three Pokémon from the platform. As with before, their energy/data forms had been augmented with the communications' headset, which would allow them to hear Ash's orders no matter where they were in the ring. Each of the three formed as their energy was released, solidifying into the forms of Ivysaur, Wartortle, and Kingler. Each of the Pokémon landed on the ground behind Pikachu, who stood by the opening awaiting the undoubted onslaught. "Okay, guys, get ready."  
  
They didn't have to wait long. Moments later, Ash's side of the set-up was stormed by Zephyr's Pokémon. His Sneasel was there again, mounted atop his Skarmory. This time, however, Zephyr had chosen to put a Dragonair and a Donphan on his offensive team. Ash smiled at his successful prediction; he had guessed that, in a truly serious match, Zephyr would split half of his forces for offense, and keep the other half back. Since he thought Ash was only going to use half as many in the same manner, his tactics would leave Ash still fighting a two-to-one battle.   
  
"Time to shake the old guy up." Drawing another Pokéball from his jacket, he triggered the release and tossed it into the ring. "Charizard, I choose you!" With another flash, Charizard was released into the battle as Zephyr's forces drew closer. "Pikachu, counter-assault!"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu sprang forward, calling its friends to arms against the invading Pokémon. With an explosion of electricity, Pikachu began the attack, bringing the Skarmory down as it had hours before, with a tremendous crash. Wartortle and Kingler followed up the initial assault, adding their Waterguns to the mix and slamming the Sneasel against the back wall. Ivysaur, in the meantime, was tangling with Dragonair and Donphan, keeping them tripping with its Vine Whips.  
  
Charizard was about to join in the fray when Ash called it back. "Hold on, big guy." Ash talked him down, putting one foot up on the railing. "You and I are going on the offensive." Charizard, who, seconds before, was furious at being called back, now smirked with delight as Ash climbed off of the tower and on to its back. "Now, let's go. We have a date with a flag!"  
  
Charizard roared, flexing its legs and leaping into the air. It soared past Pikachu's battle, taking a lazy swipe at Sneasel to make it think twice about attacking again, then began weaving through the series of walls.  
* * *  
  
"And Ash Ketchum has..." Wind stopped, blinking and rubbing his eyes to make sure he was seeing straight. "Wait a minute, he's leaving his box! Ash Ketchum has now entered the ring, and is riding atop his own Charizard!" Wind quickly cut the transmission for a moment, bringing up his father on the monitor. "Dad, can he do that? Is he crazy?"  
  
"It's not in the rules that he has to stay in his box, lad." Zephyr conceded with a grunt. "Only that he has to get the flag." His demeanor was a mixture of admiration and annoyance. He fully intended on redrafting the rules after this match, making this a one-time deal. "Well, if he wants to be roasted along with his own Pokémon, I suppose we'll have to oblige him, won't we? Now, get yer head back in the match, boy."  
  
"Right, right." Wind cut the audio back in and continued announcing the match. "And Ketchum has almost cleared the central section. Meanwhile, his defensive team has managed to drive Zephyr's attackers even further back. It's looking like anyone's game, folks!"  
* * *  
  
Charizard swooped into Zephyr's side of the arena with Ash still on its back, who was clinging on for dear life as the lizard led them on a ferocious aerial bombardment of the area. Ash's dragon had already begun spewing flames before it could even see what it was attacking, not to try and defeat anyone, but to scatter the competition...and there was plenty of competition! Zephyr had saved some of his choice Pokémon for his defensive team, including his Poliwrath, a Golem, a Houndoom, and of course, his pride and joy, the Machamp that had defeated Charizard earlier.  
  
Ash squinted as Charizard dodged the flames and water that Houndoom and Poliwrath sent at the airbound duo. Still struggling with his headache, which he hoped was about to pay off, Ash caught Charizard's gaze. "Four against one hardly seems fair, does it?" Ash threw his arms out, releasing the two Pokéballs he had hidden up his wrist.  
* * *  
  
A crowd outside of the gym had begun to form ever since the dormant plasma screens had flickered to life, coming alive with the impending battle within the ivory walls of the urban fortress. People everywhere stopped what they were doing and tuned into the match. Those that could not reach Bluster Gym's square were forced to find whatever television they could, and tune in to the match from there. Though several adamant Simpson fans complained about the match usurping their reason for being, their protests fell upon deaf, bedazzled ears. Many who had been there for the tongue-lashing that Ash had given them after the match now stood in the square, watching him battle once again in a fight that they would someday tell their children about.  
  
"Let's go, guys!" Ash's digital image cried out on the screen as his wrists erupted with Pokéball energy. Before their very eyes, he produced his Pidgeot and Tauros from within his sleeves. Pidgeot began circling the area, blasting away with terrific gusts of wind as its counterpart hit the floor running. Tauros' hooves pounded against the tile as it flew towards Poliwrath, sending it flying and knocking it clear out of the ring with a horn-assisted Bodyslam.  
  
One of the more heavyset onlookers, the very one that Ash had yelled at a few hours ago, stood among the crowd, enraptured as they were with the match. He still clutched his replica of Ash's hat in his hands, twisting it uncertainly as the fight continued. After the latest dazzling display, however, he slipped the cap onto his head wordlessly, looking on at his hero with renewed admiration in his eyes. In the end, it didn't matter what his hero thought of him, only what that hero represented, and the bar he set for everyone to live up to...  
  
The very best.  
* * *  
  
Ash looked back, seeing that Pidgeot and Tauros were keeping Zephyr's forces at bay. He then pointed for Zephyr's podium, guiding Charizard down. "Let's go, Charizard. Double time!" Charizard complied, jetting down with a trail of flame behind its massive tail.  
  
With a gutsy, daredevil leap, Ash jumped from Charizard and grabbed hold of the outside railing of Zephyr's box. He locked eyes with the other trainer, flashing a smile at the older man. "So, what do you think of my strategy?"  
  
"I think it's insane." Zephyr smiled back. "Besides, those two can't hold out forever."  
  
Zephyr was right; Pidgeot and Tauros were keeping Zephyr's Pokémon at bay, but just barely. Already, Machamp had a grip on Tauros, and was trying to wrestle the bull to the ground. Though Tauros was easily twice the other Pokémon's weight, it simply didn't have the muscle mass to combat the fighting fury.  
  
With a grunt, Ash wrenched the flag from its post, hanging from the railing by one hand with the flag waving brilliantly in the other, his feet braced against the red vertical wall facing him. "I don't need all that long." He let go of the railing, disappearing from sight and leaving the gym leader in a panicked state. Match or no match, Zephyr didn't want to see anyone hurt over a stupid badge. He leaned over the rail just in time to see Ash rip a ball from his belt and toss it below him. The ball disgorged its Pokémon, and within an instant Ash was being suspended in midair as his Abra, sleeping tranquilly below him, held its trainer aloft with its psychic abilities.  
  
"Glory be..." Zephyr breathed. "He's gotta be nuts."  
  
"Great job, Abra!" Ash ignored his perpetually throbbing head and his fright-pounding heart, feeling the tingle of the Psy Pokémon's abilities suspending him in mid-air. "Now," he reinforced his commands with a gentle telepathic tandem, "Teleport us to our end of the arena."  
  
Abra was just about to comply, effectively ending the match, when his own Tauros came flying out of nowhere and crushed the tiny yellow imp. Ash immediately began dropping to the floor, and avoided any broken bones by rolling himself into a ball around the flagpole he still clutched. Ash took one glance at his Pokémon, horrified to find them both unconscious from the impact. Turning to look along Tauros' previous trajectory, his horror compounded; Machamp was advancing on him, cracking all twenty of its knuckles with menace gleaming from its eyes.  
  
"Machamp," Zephyr's warning tone came from the box above. "Just relieve Mr. Ketchum of the flag. I don' want the lad hurt, y'hear?"  
  
Collecting his scattered thoughts, Ash braced himself. Plan A hadn't worked, so he would have to resort to Plan B. Raising his free hand to his mouth, he signaled Charizard with a shrill whistle between his fingers, calling the galoot over in what would hopefully be the nick of time. As Machamp drew closer, Ash couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut. Even when being gentle, a Machamp's disarming techniques might just be literal. He was just preparing himself for a life without arm when he felt Charizard's sharp claws wrap around the limbs in question and jerk him right off of his feet.  
  
"Nice work, buddy." Ash sighed in relief, checking to make sure he still had the flag. He needn't have bothered; his fingers were wrapped around the flagpost tighter than anything he had ever held before. "Now, let's skedaddle, huh?" Charizard roared its reply, swooping lazily for the exit into the central section of the arena, where they would be safe from ranged attacks thanks to Zephyr's own walls.  
  
They had just reached the halfway point, when Charizard came to a screeching halt. For an airborne dragon, this was a serious development; Ash was sent flying as Charizard slammed into the ground, caught in the grip of Zephyr's Machamp at the ankle. Ash tucked and rolled, still holding his captured prize as he landed in a skidding heap, stopping only as he struck one of the unforgiving brown walls of steel.  
  
"Gah." Ash groaned, picking himself up. His own pains were soon forgotten, however, as he saw his Charizard wrestled to the ground and twisted mercilessly by Machamp.   
  
Pulling the now-useless Psychic Facilitator from his ear, he plunged the device into his pocket and set forth in a dead run for his fallen friend. He managed to unseat his backpack in mid-sprint, swinging it around on one shoulder as he dug in with his free hand. As he pulled up to the struggle, he pulled what he had been seeking from the bag; a small, black, octagonal box, about twice the size of his palm. The chip he desired, courtesy of Solo (which left another question to be answered the next time he saw the mercenary), was already plugged into the HM Accelerator.   
  
"Good thing the rules don't say anything about items either." Ash murmured as he separated the device into its component halves, revealing the myriad of technology within. "Hold still, big guy, this might sting a little bit." Hesitating only a moment, he placed the device on either side of Charizard's head, setting them at the temples. He muttered a quick prayer to the Goddess, then activated the accelerator.  
  
A demonic red light seeped out of the machine, driving information into Charizard's brain at the speed of thought. Charizard roared in agony as the light poured out of its own eyes, bombarding its mind with data and genetic code the likes of which it had never felt before. Machamp was startled, but held on to its lock as if its life depended on the fragile hold it had over Charizard. Unfortunately for Machamp, it hadn't counted on Charizard's very physical structure changing beneath it. Charizard's muscles began to shift and swell, much as Psi's had before Brock's eyes. The difference was that here these muscles were real. The skinny, bony arms that Charizard possessed shifted back as the shoulder joints grew to accommodate the new muscle. The arms themselves swelled with new tissue, rock-hard and capable of crushing anything in their grasp. Its potbelly shrank, replaced with a broad, massive chest and abdominal muscles that could be used to grate cheese.  
  
"Woah." Ash murmured. The sight of his new and improved Charizard stole his breath away. The lizard, in the meantime, broke Machamp's hold by simply standing up. With a roar of fury, Charizard swept its claws across the brawny Fighting type, flinging it back into and through the brown stainless steel of the wall behind them. Ash could only gape at the feat of strength, looking down at the Accelerator as if suddenly realizing the true potential of its hidden power.  
  
"Zwrarw." Charizard snarled, snorting twin jets of flame. In the distance, it could hear reinforcements coming, and looked down at Ash to see if the teen had comprehended the situation as well. Ash was already thinking, and came up with a new plan on the fly.  
  
"Charizard," Ash pointed to the wall that featured Machamp's unwilling exit void, "Strength." Charizard tilted its head at the strange command, until Ash clarified. "You know...dominoes."  
  
Suddenly understanding, the lizard moved forward and braced itself against the wall. Charizard began heaving, trying to move the wall from its housing with its new, fantastic strength. Amazingly, it seemed as though its muscles continued to flex and expand to new limits as the wall began to give way. With a ferocious screech of rending metal, the technological barrier lost its match with Charizard's brute force, tilting dangerously and speeding along with another hearty push from Ash's Fire type. It slammed into the wall behind it, knocking that wall from its base as well with another deafening scream of steel on steel. Soon half of the gym was demolishing itself as the walls came tumbling down, rippling with the classic pattern of everyone's favorite childhood pastime.  
  
When the dust settled, Ash couldn't spy hide nor hair of their pursuing Pokémon. He exchanged a thumbs-up with Charizard, then together they made their way to their own side of the arena. As they entered through their own, still intact, walls, Ash caught sight of Zephyr's Pokémon, and prepared himself to counter-attack. His fears were alleviated when he saw that they were lying in a heap, with Pikachu and the others sitting calmly atop the pile. He flashed them a wink, then proudly strode over to his box, flag in hand, and ascended back up to the top. The red flag of his foe was held aloft for all to see, waved triumphantly and joyfully by a young man far too clever for his years.  
  
*THE BATTLE IS OVER!* Wind's voice sang out over the airwaves and echoed through the arena. *THE CHALLENGER, ASH KETCHUM, IS THE WINNER!*  
* * *  
  
Ash strode out of the gym with Zephyr once more. This time, he wore the Galebadge pinned proudly on his collar, a smile on his face, and a Pikachu that could walk on its own. Wind was further back, peeking around the two to see if there were any police prepared to arrest the lot of them for pirating the signal. Instead of police, the roar of a fanatical crowd greeted the combatants. Ash was shocked to see that his fans had returned, done up as they had been before in their dress-up clothes that mimicked his own. Another podium had already been set up, and the young trainer was filled with misery at the sight of none other than Alistair McAlistair, representative of Silph Co. and purveyor of misery. He stood next to the microphones with a look of utter disgust pasted onto his bland features beneath those ridiculous rectangular spectacles.  
  
McAlistair strode forward purposefully, his index finger already ready for pointing and shaking. "Mr. Ketchum, what you have done is absolutely unacceptable." His pale face flushed red with anger as he loomed over the troubled teen. "You have misused the Silph name, you have caused significant damage to a Silph gym, and-" He halted in his tracks as his cell phone began buzzing from within his jacket. Instincts took over as he snapped the phone open, glaring at Ash. "Don't go anywhere."  
  
Ash held up his hands, refusing to surrender his smile. Pikachu, however, continued to glare and spark at the maladjusted accountant.  
  
"Hello?" McAlistair snapped into the phone. There were several minutes of tense silence before he spoke again. "WHAT?" Another few moments. "What?" he said again, this time more softly. "Oh...I see...Yes sir, but-" he winced, pulling the phone away from his ear before tentatively returning it. "Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir. I understand. Goodbye."  
  
Ash, Zephyr and Wind stared in with curiosity as McAlistair took the podium, forcing a smile onto his pencil-thin lips. With a sweep of his hand across the field of fans, he exclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you have enjoyed tonight's match, brought to you by your friends at the Silph Corporation. In addition, we are proud to announce that, after renegotiating contract terms, we are ready to welcome Mr. Ketchum back into our fold as Silph's chief representative." A roar of approval came from the crowd, followed by several pictures snapped by a pocket of paparazzi standing in the corner. "And now, Mr. Ketchum would like to say a few words..."  
  
Ash stepped forward filled with a sudden unease. McAlistair stepped down as he approached the podium and dragged Ash aside with a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen well, boy." He hissed, "You may have someone up there who likes you, but this is not over!"  
Ash brushed him aside, stepping up to the microphones. He regarded them as if they were a basket of poisonous snakes before clearing his throat to speak. "Today..." His words were low and even, hiding the fact that he didn't know what he was saying. "I consider myself...to be the luckiest trainer...on the face of the Earth..."  
  
He sighed, continuing. "Earlier today, I said some things that...well, that weren't true. And I said some things that were true..." Steeling his nerves, he continued, "My fans aren't the reason I took to training...and if any of you ever want to be a world class trainer, like I'm trying to be, then fame and fortune aren't reasons for getting there. At most..." he glanced back at McAlistair, who still glowered with no less hatred than before, "They are fringe benefits. And yet, the faith that you show in me...well, it's more than I could ever have in myself. It gives me reason to hope...I guess. And so...uh...thank you."  
  
There was electricity in the air as a hush fell over the crowd. Suddenly, one fan, the chunky one Ash had spoken harshly to, raised his hands to the air and began pounding them together. Soon, another joined him, and another, until the entire sea of human beings was cheering Ash's name. He nodded, satisfied that he no longer had a crowd full of people who might want him dead, and stepped down and away. Pikachu bounded to his side and leapt up onto his shoulder, taking its rightful place as they passed by McAlistair.  
  
"Despite my best efforts," McAlistair told the duo, "You've been reinstated onto the Silph payroll at four times your regular salary."  
  
"I want a jet."  
  
"You WHA?"  
  
Ash snickered as the suit lost his head, throwing such a fit that his spectacles were thrown from his face and left forgotten on the ground. "Gotcha. Oh, and make sure Zephyr has enough to retrofit his gym, will you? We sort of tore it apart with that titanic match you wanted so badly." He winked, giving McAlistair a slap on the back before departing from the scene, making his way through the throng of fans and offering handshakes and kind words to those that didn't mob him.  
  
McAlistair fumed, clenching his fists and wishing with all his might that the boy would be struck dead by some miracle of God. His phone put a stop to that, ringing once more. He snapped it open and nearly put his finger through the button as he accepted the signal. "Yes?" he hissed angrily, until he realized who it was. "Oh. Yes, I told him. Yes, Professor Oak. I see." He swallowed his pride even further, with tears welling up in his beady little eyes. "And let me just say that it's a pleasure to welcome Silph's newest majority stockholder to the fold, and wish you-" The signal cut out, flooding the phone with a loud dial tone. He replaced the phone in his jacket, and started forward. A loud snap beneath his foot caught his attention, and with a pathetic whimper, Alistair McAlistair picked up what remained of his glasses and placed them neatly in a folded handkerchief, all the while wondering if he would even have a job return to tomorrow.  
* * *  
  
Misty fiddled with the delicate wiring leading away from Ash's Pokédex, examining the connections carefully between Dexter and the silent Pokégear. The two devices sat atop the hotel room's table, hooked together with as much spare wiring and cable as Misty could scrounge up. If everything went according to plan, then Dexter would soon be gracing them with his obnoxious old personality rather than his obnoxious damaged personality.  
  
"Let's see..." She looked at the confusing diagram folded out from the Pokédex owner's manual, checking and double-checking the haphazard array of linkages. "I think that ought to do it." Turing back to the table, she tapped a button on Gear, bringing the feminine wrist communicator on-line. "Are you all set, Gear?"  
  
"I am prepared," Gear informed her in its cool, soft voice. "However, I feel I should advise you that my systems are not designed for this level of interface with the Pokémon Database. The procedure you have requested is currently untested, and I cannot be certain of the potential repercussions from such a-"  
  
"Don't worry so much!" Misty assured Gear. Despite her own words, she took several steps back, just in case Dexter exploded. She still wasn't sure about the last few connections, considering that she had stripped down her Game Boy for the spare wiring. "Okay, let's-"  
  
The door burst inward suddenly, and a dark brown shape darted in, slamming the door shut behind it with as much noise as its entry had caused. Misty shrieked in terror, falling onto her rump and crabwalking backwards to evade the threat.  
  
"Misty!" Brock, clad only in his boxers and an expression of pure panic, "It's me! It's Brock!"  
  
Misty shrieked again, grabbing the nearest object and hurling it at the brawny man. Luckily for Brock, the nearest potential projectile just happened to be a pillow, and it merely knocked him down onto his butt as it smothered his face. "I know it's you, you idiot!" She wailed, "What in blazes are you doing showing up to my room naked?!"  
  
He ripped the pillow from his face, tossing it aside. "First off, I'm wearing these." He pointed to his pink Pokéball boxers in indignation, "And second, I'm here to save your life!"  
Misty, who was still wearing her own pajamas, buried her reddened face in her hands. "The only life that needs saving is yours! Now put some pants on so I can kick your butt!"  
  
"Misty, look at me!" Brock crawled forward on his hands and knees, prying Misty's hand from her face and tilting her head so he could look directly into her eyes. "Misty, it's me, Brock. I mean, it's me, the 'real' Brock. That other Brock, he's the fake, not me-"  
  
"Brock-"  
  
"Look, I can prove it." Brock insisted, standing on his knees. "Remember the time we all went to the Master's Ball? You wore a bright red dress, and you...Well, you're still in love with-"  
  
"Brock!"  
  
"Wait," he murmured to himself, still in a panic, "Anyone could have found that one out." He looked at her again with renewed purpose. "Okay, how about this; you remember that time, about three years back, when we were all on that camp-out in Viridian Forest? I wandered down to the river early in the morning, but I didn't know you were taking a bath. You have that little Staryu birthmark on your-"  
  
"BROCK!" She leapt forward, clamping a hand over his mouth before he could utter another horrible word. Her face was absolutely beet red, and her eyes blazed in silent fury. They stayed locked like that for a moment, before she looked him square in the eye. "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth now. Okay?" He nodded, but she cut him off, "And when I do, I'll give you thirty seconds to convince me not to string you up by your earlobes. Okay?"  
  
Brock leaned back as Misty released his mouth, wiping it clean of the panic sweat she had covered it in. "Wait a minute..." he seemed profoundly confused, as if the world had not come to a crashing halt in his absence. "You mean, there hasn't been another me running around here?"  
  
"Why on earth would we want more than one of you?" Misty stood, straightening her pajama top with a 'hmmf.' "We can't deal with the one we have. Now what on earth are you babbling about?"  
  
"Um...Nothing." He replied lamely, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Though relieved, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Master Psi. Why hadn't he made good on his plans of murder and terror...?  
* * *  
  
Psi hung limply against his bonds, tied to a chair much as his own quarry had been not too long ago. He sat in a shaft of light, the only light to exist in whatever place his tormentors had brought him to. There were no clues readily evident in the total darkness that surrounded the small circle visible from his limited perspective, but location was the least of his concerns. Foremost on his mind were the two ruffians beating the tar out of him.   
  
Aside from their matching black suits, they were as opposite as day and night. One of them was of rather average height, with dark ebony skin and a black goatee covering the lower half of his face. His suit hung loosely over his thin frame, but Psi's experienced eye could detect a small piece beneath the telltale bulge below his right breast, tucked safely within the folds of the suit jacket. His eyes were hidden beneath a pair of blackened shades, which was ironic considering how dark the space they occupied was now.   
  
That one did little for the interrogation, though. He seemed all to happy to let his partner, a tall, strapping Aryan with spiky blond hair and piercing blue eyes that burned every time he struck Psi's masked face with hardened brass knuckles and broken planks of wood.  
  
"So, Mr. Stone..." The black man pulled out a handkerchief, wiping away the sweat that had seeped through the mask's breathing pores. "Are you ready to tell us where Ms. Mason has hidden the experimental Technique Machines?"  
  
Psi growled, cursing his own infallibility. The mask he had designed was far too durable to break even under these, the worst of circumstances. Of course, it didn't do anything to dull the pain of any one of the impacts, but no matter how bruised and swollen he became beneath it, the mask would only reveal the bright and chipper face of a twenty-year old dynamo in his prime. And that was only going to make his tormentors hit him harder and harder...and harder.  
  
"For the last time," he groaned, raising his voice in defiance, "I'm not Brock! My name is Psi, and I work for Team R-augh!" Spike hit him across the jaw, shutting him up with a vicious crack of bone on bone.  
  
"I suggest you talk, you piece of human waste." Spike snarled, and was about to hit him again, when Shades stopped him with a single gesture.   
Shades approached the prisoner, leaning down and speaking softly, as if they were having casual morning mocha. "Mr. Stone, I assure you, we have no real interest in hurting either you, or your friends."  
  
"Speak for yourself." Spike added in a low growl.  
  
Shades ignored him, turning back to Psi. "Now, where are Professor Mason's TMs?"  
Psi scowled, which hurt more than it had any right to. "My. Name. Is. PSI!" he screamed, rocking back and forth in his chair. "Just UNTIE ME, and I'll SHOW YOU!"  
  
His interrogator sighed, removing his glasses and polishing the spittle from their lenses. "Mr. Spike, I believe you know what to do..." Spike advanced on the bound and tied assassin, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Psi groaned, steeling his old, brittle bones against another onslaught. As he caught his own, flawless false reflection in Spike's brass knuckles, he took small solace in the knowledge that in six hours, when his mask's power supply finally ran down, these two were going to feel very foolish.  
* * *  
  
"Hey," Brock exclaimed, spotting the rig sitting atop Misty's table. He went over to investigate, turning Dexter over carefully so as not to disturb the wires poking out of the machine's casing.  
  
Misty rushed over, snatching the device and replacing it on the table. "Don't touch that!" she cried, shooing him away from the set-up. "I'm trying to repair Dexter."  
  
Brock examined the scene, looking over Dex's newfound attachment to the Pokégear. Finally, he turned back to Misty. "Are you doing some kind of Frankenstein transplant, or what?"  
  
"No." Misty strode over, tapping a few of Gear's buttons to activate the sequence she and the tiny watch had spent an hour setting up. The 'gear hummed to life, glowing brightly from its minuscule screen as tiny rivulets of electricity began exchanging between the two machines. "I was reading up on Dexter's repair functions. It turns out that he has an auto-repair system made up of thousands of tiny nanites-"  
  
"Nanites?"  
  
"Tiny robots." She explained, pointing to a diagram in the thick text. Brock turned the picture upside down and backwards, but all he saw was a silhouette of a tiny bug. "Anyway," she continued, "The trick was finding a machine that could interface with Dexter's damaged processors and get the procedure started. Since it was supposed to happen automatically, I guessed that its command processor was cut off from the rest of the machine-"  
  
"Okay, okay!" Brock halted her, handing the dry, boring book back to her. "I believe you. You're a genius. Just stop, okay? You're making my head hurt." He rubbed his aching cranium as proof.  
  
"Actually, Gear's the real genius." Misty gazed at Ash's technological marvel in admiration. "She came up with the technical stuff I would need to attach them, and-" A tiny rattle halted her in mid-explanation. They held their breath as the Pokédex began to shift and shake softly, clicking against the table as it danced in place. All of a sudden, its shaking stopped, prompting Misty and Brock to move even closer. It was a slow change at first, but soon, it was evident that the tiny, hairline cracks in Dexter's casing were sealing themselves up, leaving only pristine red casing behind.  
  
"Woah." Brock rubbed his squinted eyes in disbelief. "If I didn't see it myself, I never would'a believed."  
  
"Score one for the Aqua Girl!" Misty leapt upward in triumph. The small sliver of guilt she had carried with her those past few weeks after their encounter with Lawrence vanished, replaced with a self-satisfaction that rivaled Ash's own perpetually growing ego. She plopped down onto her bed's edge with a sigh, placing her hands on her knees. "Nice job, Gear." There was no answer. "Gear?"  
  
"She shut off." Brock gently unhooked Gear from the conglomeration of scavenged wires, holding up the silent device for Misty to see. "The process must have wiped her out. We'll just have to reboot her in a little bit."  
  
The door flew open once again, and Misty jumped as she had before as Ash strode into the room with a grin to match Misty's. "Hey guys!" he waved a greeting, leaning up against the wall. With only a smidgen of curiosity and quite a bit of amusement, he quipped, "Nice boxers, Brock."  
  
"Thanks. Say, is that a new badge I see on your collar?"  
  
"Don't look too hard, or it might break." Ash joshed him, tossing the badge over for Brock to see.  
  
Brock examined the tiny pin. "Hmm. Pretty."  
  
"Waitaminute!" Misty blurted as Brock tossed the pin back to its owner. She frowned, utterly confused by the situation. "Dixie told me you lost your match with the gym here!" Her confusion changed into horror. "You didn't just beat him up and take the badge, did you?"  
  
Though her face didn't betray her, Ash could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "I did lose..." Ash admitted, sneering at her mocking gesture with good humor, "But the rematch was all me."  
  
"Well, la dee dah for you." She smarted, picking up his Pokédex and tossing it to him. He fumbled to catch it, glancing at the now-clear screen once he had it under his control. "While you and Pikachu were out playing, I was doing something useful. Your Pokédex will be as good as new in..." she consulted the manual quickly, "Three to five hours, or your money back."  
  
"That's fantastic!" Ash set Dexter aside, then wrapped Misty in a surprising hug that caught her off guard and swept her off her feet. "Thanks a lot, Misty!"  
  
Misty blushed, but for different reasons than when Brock entered the room. "Um...hey, no sweat." She enjoyed the embrace for a moment, feeling Ash's strong arms wrapped around her. Feelings that she tried desperately to push away swept over her in a forceful storm, sending her head spinning. Finally, to save face, she pushed Ash off. "All right, that's enough!" she managed to gasp. "We don't want to give your girlfriend the wrong idea."  
  
"Say, that's right." Ash checked his wrist, but then realized that Gear wasn't strapped on. Spying the device on the table, he again tried to check it, but the stubborn 'gear refused to activate. Grunting with frustration, he checked the clock on the wall and smiled. "I'm even early for picking Dixie up, too. Where is she?"  
  
"She's in the bathroom," Misty chucked her thumb in the direction of the room's lavatory, whose door was closed at the moment, but with a small sliver of light coming from underneath it. "I'll tell her to hurry along. You go wait in the lobby."  
  
"Sure thing." He cast a look at his repairing Pokédex, then reached out and grasped Misty's hand in one last squeeze. "Thanks again, Misty."  
  
She felt her heart melting, and shooed him along. "Just go. Go!" Misty admonished just in time. No sooner had Ash left the room when the bathroom door creaked open, revealing the date-bound Dixie dressed to kill...  
  
"Hey guys! Nice boxers, Brock." Dixie greeted them, tugging on the sleeve of her ill-fitting sweatshirt. Her sweatpants hung limply from her gorgeous frame, obscuring the natural curve of her body that had caught the eye of more than one boy since hitting puberty. She spun once in place, winking at Brock and casting an expecting gaze at Misty. "How do I look? I did just what you suggested."  
  
Misty could practically feel the waves of confusion and moral outrage that were pouring off of Brock right now. She didn't dare look over at him, though she knew he was alternating between staring openly and horrified at Dixie's atrocious appearance and glaring her way. "You look perfect!" Misty clapped, grinning both inside and out. Then she frowned, inspecting closer. "Hold on a sec...Is that make-up I spy there?"  
  
"Just a little..." Dixie admitted. "I know you said I shouldn't wear any, but...well..." Misty tapped her foot impatiently, folding her arms with a disappointed expression on her face.  
  
Brock stepped forward, pushing Dixie into the bathroom. "Say, why don't you go ahead and make some final adjustments? I have something I need to talk to Misty about."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"In you go!" Brock shoved her into the bathroom and slammed the door closed, leaning against it. He turned his attention to Misty, who stood there, trying to look as innocent as possible. It was a look that had served her well whenever she had tried to pull a fast one on either of her friends in the past, but Brock refused to let it work this time. "Just WHAT do you think you're DOING?" he hissed, his teeth gnashing furiously.  
  
"What?" Misty demanded weakly. He continued to glare at her, forcing another, more indignant "What?!" out of her.   
  
"Just giving Dixie a little advice before her big date with Ash?" Brock demanded.  
  
Misty forced a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Oh, the outfit...and make-up...and mannerisms..."  
  
"Mannerisms? What mannerisms?"  
  
Whoops. "Uh, who said anything about-"  
  
"What did you tell her?"  
  
"I..." Misty desperately tried to avoid Brock's piercing gaze, but it seemed to be everywhere at once. "I...may have told her to act like a cold, heartless witch, and ignore every single overture Ash made towards her because it would drive him mad with passion..."  
  
"You WHAT?" he cried, moving forward to grab her by the shoulders. "What else did you do?" Misty mumbled something that he didn't catch. "What was that?"  
  
"Maybe I told her to eat like Ash does..." she admitted.  
  
He sighed, letting go of her and dropping to sit on the bed. His hands massaged his temples, attempting to force away the agony that Misty was forcing upon him. "Misty, how could you?"  
  
"Oh, come on!" Misty insisted, trying to make Brock see the humor in it all. "It's just a little joke. Besides," she scoffed, "She's the one who's stupid enough to listen to everything I told her."  
  
"Really..." Brock's eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "And would you care to hear my take on the subject?" Before she could reply, he pressed ahead, "I see a terrible, horrible, awful little girl who jealously decided to ruin something wonderful here by abusing a trust that her friend has in her."  
  
"Jealous! Me?" Misty laughed. She didn't believe her own laughter, though, and she could clearly see that Brock wasn't buying it. "I just..." She tried to comprehend what she had done, and reviewed her little advisory session with Dixie. This time she had Brock's scathing words circling inside of her mind as the images of a horrid little redheaded wretch manipulated her trusting, younger, very naïve friend. "It's not...I didn't..." Finally, she sagged forward. Bitter tears began welling up in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks though her lips remained silent.   
  
Brock was seriously concerned now. "Hey..." he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her down to sit next to him. "Hey, ease up. I didn't mean to be so hard on you-"  
  
"You were right." Misty admitted between her stifled tears. "Right about everything." She looked over at Brock, her resolve and inner defenses crumbling in the arms of one of her oldest, dearest friends. "Brock, what did I do? What kind of friend...what kind of monster-"  
  
He shushed her, rocking her gently back and forth. "Hey, it's okay." He whispered quietly. "It's all right. I know..." He pulled her back a bit to look right into her glimmering blue eyes. The tears hadn't stopped yet. In fact, he was afraid that she would start bawling any second now, and he wasn't sure how long Dixie would stay in the bathroom. "Look, Misty," he explained, "I'm really sorry. I know how you really feel about Ash...even if you didn't." Steeling himself for the crushing blow, he continued, "But you have to realize, it's just too late. Ash and Dixie, they...they're trying to start something special."  
  
She sniffed, leaning against his shoulder. "I guess."  
  
"And if you really care about Ash," he wiped away her tears with his thumb, "Then you'll be happy if he finds someone special...Even if that someone isn't you. Because you know that Ash cares just as much about you, even if it isn't like that."  
  
"Yeah." Misty admitted, wiping the rest of her tears away herself with the back of her hand. She plastered a smile back onto her lips, and Brock couldn't ever recall seeing a less sincere smile since the Miss Poké-Teen competition. "I guess I have to do the adult thing, don't I?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Man, growing up really sucks." She managed a little giggle, and this time, her smile was real.  
  
He laughed along with her. "I haven't found anything to suggest otherwise, kiddo." Just then, the door opened, revealing a now plainfaced Dixie peeking carefully out the small crack.   
  
"Is it okay for me to come out now?" she asked cautiously. Spying Misty's reddened, swollen-eyed face, she threw the door open the rest of the way. "Misty, are you okay?"  
  
"I can see you girls have some stuff to talk about." Brock stood, rubbing his bare arms. "I think I'm going to go find my pants. I'll see you both down in the lobby in a little bit." With that, he left the room and made his way down the hall, greeting several guests who gave the boxer-clad youth a wide bearth.  
  
Misty stood up, sniffing away the last of her sadness. With calm determination set into her features, she approached Dixie and ordered, "Take off your clothes."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Look," Misty insisted, going over to her own backpack, "The outfit you picked out would look killer on you, but it probably wouldn't be appropriate for a nice dinner and a movie." She pulled out a small, folded bundle that she always kept carefully among her belongings, pulling out a sheaf of blazon yellow fabric. Tiny sunflowers dotted the material, giving it the appearance of a field of flowers viewed from high above. "We're about the same size, so this summer dress should fit you just right."  
  
"But you said-"  
  
"Now," Misty ignored her, pulling the sweatshirt up and over the girl's goldenrod hair and tossing the disgusting article aside, "Ash will eat, act, and comport himself like a gentleman the entire time, so try not to act surprised when he doesn't bury his head in his food. He'll try to sound suave, and he'll actually pull it off half the time, so make sure to keep him talking, but make sure you both keep it casual. It'll be a lot more fun that way."  
  
"But-"  
  
Pulling out her own meager make-up kit out of the bag, she began brushing blush gently onto Dixie's cheeks. "I'll get the make-up started, but you know your face better than I do, so you'll have to finish it. Not too much, because you're already a knock-out."  
  
"Thanks-"  
  
"Now..." Misty paused, feeling a sick, sinking feeling striking her stomach. This was going to hurt, no two ways about it. "Sometime during the movie, Ash is going to pull the old yawning trick." She mimicked the maneuver, yawning loudly and slipping her arm around Dixie's shoulder. "Just pretend that it's actually clever, no matter how much it isn't. When he kisses you, make sure to look right into those big brown eyes of his and whisper something sweet."  
  
"Misty..." Dixie pulled back, leaving Misty's blush brush hanging limply in mid-stroke. "What about all that other stuff you were telling me earlier." Her green eyes wavered as they pleaded with Misty for some semblance of sense. "What's going on?"  
  
Sighing, Misty forced the sundress into Dixie's hands and began pushing her towards the bathroom once more. "If I ever stop feeling like pond scum, I'll tell you."  
  
"But-"  
  
"GO!"   
  
Misty shoved her in and shut the door. Then, she let her head come to rest on the doorframe, allowing herself to sink to the floor. She wasn't sure what she felt worse about: that Brock was actually right about her own feelings, or that she had abused a sacred trust with someone whom was supposed to be her friend.  
"Man," she swore softly, "This has to be, like, the worst day ever."  
* * *  
  
"This has got to be the absolute best day ever!" Ash exclaimed to his best friends, Brock and Pikachu, as he leaned back in one of the hotel's lounging lobby chairs.  
  
"I can't believe that Silph guy actually gave you back the funding." Brock shook his head, scooping up Pikachu before the power-packed Pokémon could attack a dust bunny underneath the seat. Trying to control the wriggling, rowdy mouse proved to be too much for him, so he released Pikachu into its trainer's capable hands. "I mean, that corporate sleaze absolutely hated slackers like us."  
  
"I know." Ash agreed, scratching Pikachu in its favorite spot behind the ears. "It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Few things that happen to us do." Brock laughed, leaning against the chair. "Maybe our good karma's finally catching up to us." He spotted Dixie and Misty, who had changed out of her pajamas for the first time today, coming down the stairs to meet them. He tapped Ash on the shoulder and somehow managed to repress a whistle at the mere sight of Dixie.  
  
"Who knows." Ash stood up, looking in the crowd for his dream dinner date. "Maybe we all died and went to-"   
  
When he caught sight of Dixie, he couldn't help but drop Pikachu in sheer surprise. As the Pokémon fell to the floor with a protesting squeak, Ash's gaze traveled in the opposite direction. He started from her summer sandals, then let his hungry eyes wander further up her slim, slender legs, right past the hem of her yellow sunflower dress that billowed out below the waist, but accented her natural beauty just about everywhere else. Her sunburst pendant, which they had never seen her without, accented the ensemble quite nicely. Dixie had let her hair hang loosely by her shoulders, framing a face that only an angel should have.  
  
"Heaven." Ash finished with a whisper. Through it all, he never noticed Misty's disappointed pout. As a matter of fact, he didn't notice her at all until she cleared her throat loudly, signaling him back to the real world. "Oh. Hi." He replied lamely, suddenly feeling underdressed in his usual jeans and black rumpled T-shirt. Dixie didn't seem to mind, however. She merely giggled, enthralled at the attention her outfit received from both of the boys. "I...uh..." After a few moments of babbling, he managed to compose himself just enough to offer his elbow to the exquisite young lady. "Shall we?"  
  
"I would be delighted." She replied, taking the arm. This time the electricity that she had felt at his touch earlier charged through them both. They gave their friends one last wave as he led her out the door. "Don't wait up!" Dixie called out just as they disappeared through the revolving doors.  
  
"We won't!" Misty called back, her voice dripping with forced sugar. Once she was certain that the two were out of hearing, she added, "You ridiculously in-love stupid-heads." Pikachu nudged her leg, wanting to be picked up by its second-favorite person (favorite, if she happened to be holding a Pika-snack), and she was obliged to comply. She shot a vicious glare over at Brock, who stood there studying her miserable demeanor. "There. I did the right thing. Happy?"  
  
"No." he replied, watching as the couple disappeared from the window's view. "I'm going to be hearing about it for the next six months. But them?" He smiled. "They're happy. And pretty soon, you will be too."  
  
"Doubt that." She scoffed, rubbing Pikachu in the same spot Ash always did. She felt better as the tiny Pokémon rumbled in response. At least one of the men in her life liked her, even if it did belong to a different species entirely. "So, how about we get some pizza delivered for dinner?" She held up Gear, who was strapped to her wrist. "I say we use Ash's money. It only seems fair that he takes all of us out for dinner tonight, huh?"  
  
Brock offered her a token grin. "Sounds all right to me." He affirmed, already making a mental note to pay Ash back for the pizza. He watched as Misty reactivated the stubborn device, which hadn't worked since Dexter's reactivation. Even now, it seemed to be sluggish in its re-boot, taking far longer than it had to awaken even when Ash had first received it from Professor Oak. "Is something wrong? Gear doesn't seem-"  
  
That's when Gear started screaming.  
* * *  
  
James awoke with a pounding headache and a foreboding sense that he and his companions had messed up once again. Feeling the tight bands of rope wrapped around his wrist only confirmed his suspicions. He groaned, standing up with his arms bound behind his back.   
  
"Good," Jessie's voice echoed through his pain-torn mind, "You're awake." He saw her and Meowth sitting across from where he stood, with the camping equipment that had proven to be their downfall sitting between the three. The shredded remains of their own ropes rested to one side, probably cut away by Meowth's razor claws. "It's about time, too."  
  
"Wha hoppen?" he asked thickly, offering his own bindings to Meowth.  
  
The feline sliced easily through the ropes, tossing them aside in disgust. "We was bamboozled, dat's what happened!" he groused.   
  
James tested the air with his nose, suddenly detecting an appealing aroma. "Say now, what's that heavenly smell?" He peered down at the simmering kettle sitting atop the camping stove and felt his hopes rising. Even if Master Psi would be furious with them allowing their loose end to escape, at least they could enjoy whatever it was slowly cooking in the pot. "Did that little twerp actually make something for us?"  
  
"Oh, he made something for us, all right." Jessie confirmed with arms folded and eyes closed. She leaned with her back against a box, stewing over this latest humiliating failure, and nursing her own headache. "We saved some just for you, too."  
  
James squealed, and yanked off the lid of the pot without even considering its scalding temperature. Ignoring the searing pain assaulting his hand, he tossed the lid aside and peered down into the blackened, charred pot.  
  
"Is that a blackjack?"  
  
End  
  
-Quiet Hindsight-  
As I said above in a whimsical fashion, there's a lot happening in this story. As the series progresses, I'll regret not being able to put random stories (that is, stories that have little to do with the progressive plot), but we can still throw in quite a bit of fun, as well as the action and adventure I hope you've come to expect. Until next time, fellow trainers!  
  
Next: BadgeQuest: The Hidden Machine Saga  
Take A Moment, Catch Your Breath 


	5. Flash

=Author's Note=  
  
Greetings, all! Your friendly netsurfing wraith here, with the last installment of the Hidden Machine Saga! Now don't you worry, that doesn't mean that BadgeQuest is ending…lord no! We're just getting started! So strap in, grab some popcorn and a smoothie, and get ready for the BadgeQuest universe to turn on its ear.  
  
=Legal Disclaimer=  
  
Think of something clever yourself already! You know the drill.  
  
BadgeQuest: The America Chronicles #6  
  
The HM Saga: 05  
  
She sat atop the very fabric of reality, allowing its pulse of life force to ebb and flow through her. The eternal cycle of life passed beneath her as it had done for the past two millennia. With nearly limitless power at her fingertips in the ethereal plane, even she could only sit and watch the strands of creation flow as a river of eternity. Earth was her charge, and she, its centurion.  
  
Her fingers rested gently upon the fabric as she floated serenely, cross-legged and omnipotent. In recent times, she had become interested in a particular strand in the tapestry. To single out a solitary string in such a large picture would have been considered ridiculous to others of her kind, but beings such as her were few and far between now. Even if they were there to scoff her, her ears would never register their taunts. She had a...'personal' interest in the strand, more so than all but a handful of beings in existence knew of.  
  
The strand twisted and turned as it flowed with the rest of reality, much as any other strand would. For years now, the strand had run with several other strands, rarely straying far from them. Other strands would come and go, sometimes returning again. Sometimes the strands danced together, swimming beautifully in harmony. At other times, the tapestry grew dark and foreboding, and the strands would weep and struggle. Very recently, several new strands danced in and out among her favorite, and the harmony became dampened, and the colors darker and more dour.   
  
But now, something strange was happening. Strands were coming together...too many other strands, many more than she had ever seen converge on her favorite one. She allowed her finger to stray further along the strand's path, glimpsing into the future of the tapestry. The centurion rarely looked ahead, content to remain in the here and the now, but she sensed something in the coming time.  
  
More and more strands came in, several of which she recognized as having intertwined with her favorite strand before. Others had never before come this close, but were now twisting and turning, drawing closer and closer as time moved on.   
  
Then she gasped.  
  
There was a knot.  
  
It was unlike anything she had ever seen...a collection of threads among her own that crashed together and became one for a single, terrible instant in time. One of the threads in the tapestry, a string of pure cold black, made her shiver at an unseen chill. Forcing away the familiar sense of dread, she traced the thread further with the tip of her ivory finger.  
  
Her dread instantly turned to remorse. Hands trembling, she removed her finger from the tapestry of life, allowing creation to flow beneath her as she paused. A single tear escaped her eyes of brilliant jade, trailing down her sculpted cheek as she cried for her strand. The coming convergence in the strings of creation was the largest disturbance in the tapestry she had seen in over two millennia, but that was not the cause of her tears. Several of the strands ended at the knot, one of which she knew very well.  
  
But not nearly as well as her strand did...  
  
* * *  
  
The irony occurred to Spike right in the middle of the meeting. There they were, standing in a darkened room, surrounded by ancient beings in pressed suits far more expensive than anything he or his partner would ever own, and Spike was struck with an uncharacteristic moment of epiphany.   
  
"Gentlemen. Thank you for arriving so promptly."  
  
The secret Americorp meeting room was designed specifically to make those surrounded by the board members as uncomfortable as possible. So, when the executive board had called Spike and Shades in, they had designated this, their favored room, for the counsel. There were only a few lights present in the room, most of which shone directly on the pair standing in the middle. A single desk sat at the back of the room, running most of the wall's length in order to accommodate the five shadowy figures behind it. Beyond them were a dozen monitors set into the back wall, featuring the silhouetted remainder of the executive board on live telecast.  
  
-And that was when Spike realized that he loved Shades.  
  
Not in the biblical sense, of course. He still enjoyed a comely wench every now and then, whenever their budget could afford it(though they rarely appreciated the label "comely wench"). But standing here, facing down a crotchety bunch of geezers who held their fate in wrinkled, greedy hands, he realized that Shades was the only one in the world he could really count on.  
  
The center silhouette looked down at a clipboard sitting in front of him, identical to the one that each of them had been given. "You were hired to track down Professor Mason's secret project, a new series of Technique Machines, and deliver them to us before he could go public with them."  
  
Shades had been there for him for the past five years, which was more than he could say of anyone else. He hadn't spoken to his family in nearly a decade, and most of his friends were gone, dead, or had already betrayed him. Shades had been there, watching his back, day in and day out.  
  
"And what has your progress been so far?" He glanced downward again, and both of the mercenaries knew better than to speak. "You killed Professor Mason, sent his only living relative on the lamb, failed to obtain the prototypes, and required extraction from the local authorities in Maine."  
  
Of course, he could never tell Shades a single word of this. He wasn't certain if his partner even felt remotely the same. Besides, men didn't talk about their feelings. Men slapped each other on the back. Men got drunk together. Men watched sports and scratched obscenely in public. But sharing? Never.  
  
"Do you have an explanation?"  
  
Shades stepped forward. Shades always did the talking for the two of them. That was another thing about him that Spike loved. Words always failed Spike, especially when it was far easier to draw a gun and start firing.   
  
"We've run into some difficulties." Shades offered neutrally.  
  
Another of the board's members spoke up. "You are referring to the children.".  
  
A third picked up the line of questioning, the timing so perfect that Spike couldn't help but wonder if they all shared the same brain. "You mean to tell us that two of the world's most expensive mercenaries have been waylaid by a group of children?" Shades remained quiet at this, until further prompted. "Well?"  
  
"We were hired to obtain prototype chips. No one mentioned killing children or running into interference with Team Rocket."  
  
"Well," the center board member spoke up once more, "It seems as though there is only one chip left. Ms. Mason and her cohorts have the other four. Our intelligence has pinpointed their location at Snowfort, Alaska. We can only assume that they have located the final prototype there."  
  
"It seems that this contest is drawing to a close with a most uneven score, gentlemen. However, we are willing to offer quite the reward."  
  
"If you obtain all five chips within the next forty-eight hours," one of the video monitors cut in, displaying quite the monetary sum in text at the bottom of their screen, "We are willing to overlook your previous mistakes and pay your fee in full."  
  
"Your fee will be doubled," the chairman added, "If you are able to eliminate the only remaining witnesses in this debacle."  
  
"The children." Shades' eyes narrowed behind his signature sunglasses. The board's silence provided all the answer he needed. "I understand."  
  
"And your partner?"  
  
Shades elbowed Spike, shaking him from his rare moment of introspection. He returned to the real world with a confused look on his face which was erased only by Shades' whispered growl. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Wax the snots, get the chips. I got it."  
  
"I hope your partner understands the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Shades." The chairman warned his temporary employee. "If Americorp does not obtain these prototypes, we will once again undoubtedly find ourselves beneath the omnipresent hand of Silph International.   
  
"We cannot afford that kind of competition."  
  
"And so neither can you."  
  
With that said, the members stood, taking their clipboards in hand. One by one, the tele-linked members winked out of existence, becoming blackened, reflective screens. Taking this to be the end of the meeting, Shades grabbed hold of Spike's elbow and led him back the way they came into the long, cavernous corridor.   
  
  
  
Shades' dark skin was turning purple, an obvious sign that he was angry. "What did you think you were doing, nodding off like that?"  
  
"Sorry Shades," Spike yawned. He truly was sorry, but meetings and talking weren't exactly up his alley. If something needed to be beaten or shot, then he was the man to call. Otherwise there wasn't much he could do. "Dunno what happened."  
  
"Well," Shades growled, "Keep your focus." The purple in his cheeks faded. Shades never did stay mad at him long. "We've got a long couple of days ahead of us."  
  
"Don't worry." Spike cracked his knuckles, narrowing his eyes. "We'll be ready for those brats this time. There isn't anything on heaven or Earth that can save them this time."  
  
* * *  
  
Rolling waves of mist crossed the floor, shrouding the enormous room in a thick haze. Everything and everyone that stood within the arena was shrouded in cool white mystery. Thick icicles hung overhead, jagged and menacing, while the floor sported a thin sheen of black ice, all but invisible to the untrained eye and dangerously slick. All in all, it was a very impressive setup, intimidating to any but the most experienced, battle-hardened trainers.  
  
It may have impressed Ash as well, if he hadn't been so blasted cold. He stood in the center of the gym, shivering in the black Silph jacket that hung across his ever-broadening shoulders, inadequately protecting him from the oppressive subzero temperatures. Still, the shiver he felt wasn't from the cold, but rather the excitement that ran up his spine. This was it.  
  
This was the last one.  
  
"So, young one! You fancy yourself ready for the honor of possessing our badge?" a spooky voice echoed from the mists, shrouded in a haunting veil of secrecy. Ash couldn't help but roll his eyes at the theatrics, unaffected by the spooky atmosphere the gym leader was trying desperately to create. For beginning trainers, sometimes half the battle was surviving the psychological onslaught brought down upon them by the badge masters. Gym leaders were certainly a dramatic bunch if ever he met one. Of course, he wouldn't say that in front of Misty or Brock without a sturdy brick wall between them. He brought his mind back from his absent friends, putting his head into the game as the unseen speaker continued. "Well, here in the Gym of Snowfort, you will have to brave more than mere Pokémon."  
  
"You don't say." Ash muttered, looking down at his own Pokémon partner. They shared a secret chuckle together, neither one daunted by the show being performed at the moment.  
  
"You, young boy," the voice continued, having obviously not heard Ash's snide commentary, "Will have to bear witness to the icy black fear that lurks within your very own heart."  
  
Ash checked his watch, scowling. This was taking way too long. "Look," he called into the mist, "Could we maybe speed things up a bit? I have some friends to meet for lunch, and they get cranky when they're hungry." Pikachu clutched at its own gurgling stomach, trying to stave its mighty hunger for the time being. It wasn't easy to ignore the pangs of emptiness in its stomach, and for some inexplicable reason Pikachu had a huge craving for a snow cone. It might have had something to do with the massive amounts of ice and cold that had surrounded them ever since landing in this Podunk town.  
  
"Insolent whelp!" the voice boomed, echoing across the ominous field of ice. The frosty stalactites shivered at the intensity of the voice, releasing tiny flakes of ice that fluttered down upon the boy and his Pika-pal. "This is a special gym, unlike any other."  
  
"Aren't they all?" Ash muttered.  
  
"Here in the Gym of Snowfort, only those Pokémon of the elements of Ice may battle here for the honor of the Tundrabadge! Prepare yourself for frozen combat!"  
  
"Terms of the battle?" Ash called out, pulling out his Pokédex.  
  
"One-on-one." The voice answered ominously, "No items, no time limit. First to fall and fail to return to combat will be the victor." There was a bright flash from within the folds of the mist, a sure sign that a Pokémon had been released. The wall of mist parted, allowing the ever-feminine form of a Jynx to fly through. "Behold the potent combination of Psychic and Ice, the ultimate Pokémon for the ultimate trainer in the ultimate element, the Realm of Unyielding Winter!"  
  
"Good God." He looked back down at Pikachu, who was shivering terribly from the cold. "We've got a serious talker here, don't we? Dexter," his voice brought the analytical device on-line in an instant, "Scan."  
  
Dexter's sensor packet began humming with activity as his personality subroutines came to the forefront. "Great gobs of crap!" He proclaimed, "It's cold in here! It's a good thing I don't have nerves or a tactile sensation processor, or I'd be freezing right now!" Ash's Pokédex had recovered nicely from the damage done to it months before, with a one-hundred percent turnaround. Of course, that meant a complete revival of his old self…  
  
"Dex..."  
  
"Right!" He beeped and buzzed, scanning the scowling Jynx that loomed before them. The Pokémon was clearly a cut above the rest, with crackling blue energy escaping from its narrowed eyes. "Oh-kay. Taking into account its elemental output and muscular composition, I'd say its battle level is somewhere around level...fifty. Maybe fifty-one, if we're feeling generous today."  
  
"We are." Ash smiled. He clipped Dexter back to his belt, but left the device active. In the past months, he had learned a lot from his machines...both of them. "Gear?"  
  
"Accessing Remote Transport System now, Ash." Gear responded right on cue. An accident that occurred while activating Dexter's automatic repair functions had inadvertently transferred his own artificial intelligence program into her, with surprising results. She had taken the sudden leap to consciousness rather hard, finding it difficult to adapt to a set of algorithms designed for a different system. Now, after months of work and digitized soul-searching, she had grown accustom, even joyful, at the ability to think for herself. "The Oak Institute reports that the desired subject is currently in its Pokéball, and is awaiting transport. Shall we...?"  
  
"Let's give Tauros a little break." Ash pressed the activation switch, more out of habit than anything else. Gear was more than capable of handling the entire transfer herself. "Activate the RTS, and let's get our boy into the game."  
  
The air about him began to crackle with unseen energy, sending a sharp tingling running through Ash's leg. One of the Pokéballs came aglow on his belt, engulfed in pure white light. A second later, the sphere vanished into thin air, only to be replaced in an instant with the former's twin. Though the change was undetectable from the outside, the readings pouring out from Gear's tiny screen caused Ash to smile.  
  
"Transfer complete." Gear informed him as the static in the air subsided. Reaching down carefully, Ash pulled the still-warm ball from his belt, rotating it in his palm to place the control button under his thumb. "Ready to go, Ash."  
  
"Thanks, Gear." He depressed the button once, allowing the tiny sphere to expand in his hand until it was roughly the size of a softball. "I'll take it from here." He cupped his free hand to his mouth, calling out to the hidden gym leader. "You know, I'll let you make this a two-on-one in case you want to even the odds a little bit."  
  
"Arrogant child," the voice informed him in no uncertain terms, "I will crush you so utterly and completely that whatever remains of your ego will be unable to show its face within a hundred miles of our proud gym."  
  
"Righty-oh." Ash nodded.   
  
He pushed the ball's control down once more, holding it until he felt the release catch click beneath his thumb. Then, drawing back as a pitcher would, he hurled the ball high into the air. The Pokéball seemed to hang in mid-air for a split second before opening on an unseen hinge, disgorging an enormous mass of blazing energy into the arena. The dazzling display of power danced in the air, reforming itself into its natural state of matter in less time than it takes to write about it. Wings spread from the central mass, followed by a long, flowing tail that danced to a tune all of its own. The blinding light faded slowly to soft tones of blue and white, the colors of the coldest of ice in the most frozen of Earth's icy desert poles. The containment sphere returned obediently to Ash's hand as the energy finished taking the shape of-  
  
"A-ar-articun-n-no..."  
  
"Cyooooooooo!" Articuno shrieked, beating its massive wings to stay aloft. It began to circle the battle floor, causing the mists below to swirl like water caught in a powerful tide.  
  
"Wh...where...who...how..." the voice stuttered, clearly taken aback by the appearance of a living legend in their "humble" little gym. "What is that?"  
  
"Huh?" Ash tried to sound nonchalant, hiding his smile deep within his own self satisfaction. "Oh, that's my Articuno. You doing all right, Articuno?" he called out to the Pokémon, who gave him an encouraging screech. The voice was silent for several moments, contemplating the situation as its Jynx cowered in fear at the appearance of a Pokémon several times more powerful than it. "I'm sorry, is something wrong?"  
  
"I...You..." the voice was still flustered, but growing stronger by the moment. Clearly the gym leader was trying desperately to regain some of its lost composure. "I thought Articuno were just a myth. I spent the better part of my youth searching for one!"  
  
"Well, I'm still getting used to having a legendary bird on my team. Of course, he's not full grown yet." Ash conversed casually, "We...that is, my cognitive, analytical database and I, we think he's still an adolescent. He's probably going to get a lot bigger, and a lot stronger. So, are we going to battle, or not?" Articuno screeched again, echoing Ash's sentiment as it zeroed in on its opponent.  
  
There was another long pause, then "Mr. Ketchum-It is Mr. Ketchum, isn't it? Mr. Ketchum," the voice broke in nervously, losing all of its reverberation and ominous darkness, "Under the circumstances-"  
  
* * *  
  
Ash made his way down the street, admiring his brand new snowflake-shaped badge. Pikachu trotted next to his feet, calling up at him to try and get his attention, but as with all his other new badges, he was lost in his own world. His Pokémon had steered him clear of fire hydrants and newspaper machines on several occasions, always watching out for Ash's best interests even when Ash didn't.  
  
"And baby makes ninety-six." He crowed, pulling a small brown cloth sack from his backpack and tossing the badge in with the others. The small bag fairly bulged with small angular shapes, stuffed to the brim with badges from all over the United States. Now, with more than enough badges to enter the Star League's DC Bowl, he would once again claim the title of League Master. Granted, it was far from his old league, but those days were behind him now.  
  
The thought suddenly struck him as odd. For years as a child, he had wanted nothing more than to be the toughest competitor in all of Kanto, and that meant dominating the Indigo League. Then, once he had accomplished that, he spent years defending that title, returning to Indigo Plateau each year to do battle with his toughest rivals. Now, though, nearly a year since his defeat at the treacherous hands of Gary Oak, he hardly ever thought about it. Right after the upset, of course, he would have traded his right arm for a rematch with the Oak boy, a fair battle this time. Now, though, he understood what Misty had tried to tell him after the fight; that the whole ordeal was petty. It was beneath him, and if he couldn't see it, then he was beneath himself...whatever that meant.  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu trilled, spying the very object of his thought ahead of them. "Pi, pikachu!"  
  
"Ash!"  
  
Ash smiled at the sight of Misty Waterflower waving at him from down the frozen walkway. Like him, she was huddled over in an inadequate coat, her breath escaping in long, foggy gasps. Ever since their stopover in Bluster City, things between them had seemed kind of off, as if there was something standing between them. He had tried to talk to her about it, but she had always circumvented the subject until he gave up. When she wanted to talk about it, she would; if she was anything, Ash knew she was direct.  
  
"What's the good word, Misty?"  
  
"Hopefully," she brushed aside a stray lock of hair from her eyes, giving him an odd smile, "The word is victory. How'd the gym go?"  
  
"Didn't even get to battle." He put on a dour face, pretending to be lower than the dirt beneath the gum on someone's shoe. Then, when he noticed her inquisitive gaze, he couldn't help but grin. "When they saw Articuno, they just called the match right then and there."  
  
She laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "You dork." She kneeled down, scratching Pikachu in its favorite spot behind its ears. "And as for you...I'll bet you're disappointed that you didn't get a shot at them, too." Pikachu cooed, leaning into Misty's expert fingers. "C'mon. Brock and Dixie are waiting for us at a little café down the road, and I'm freezing my ponytail off here."   
  
The three of them walked on together in silence, quickening their pace in order to make it out of the cold before they caught their death of cold. Though she seemed cheerful, Ash knew her well enough to pick up on several subtle hints as to her true mood. She had done her hair up in a simple, easy clump jutting out the back of her skull, grouped so fast that she hadn't even taken the time to separate the lock she always kept by her temple. Her eyes tended to shift downward, a sure sign that something was bothering her as well. There were a million others, some that Ash was aware of, and some he didn't even know he saw, but it painted a fairly clear picture. He made a mental note to ask her about it when he got a chance later.  
  
They entered the tiny café, one Caribou Coffee. It wasn't hard at all to spot their other friends; one kept a wild, outrageous hairstyle that only he could pull off, an outgrowth of long spikes that hung at all kinds of weird angles, often defying the known laws of physics. The other was easily recognizable, as he happened to be dating her. Dixie flashed him a brilliant smile, and Brock waved them over as he took a sip of something that appeared to be a strange mixture of chocolate and coffee.  
  
"Ash!" Dixie leapt from the booth, running over and nearly knocking Ash off of his feet with a turbo-hug that knocked the wind right out of him. "How did it go? Did you win?" Her eyes probed his with waves of excitement.  
  
Ash couldn't help but smile whenever he was in her arms. He reached over and brushed several strands of her golden hair out of her eyes, tucking them behind her ear. "Hey," he grinned, sharing a brief glance with Pikachu, "It's me."  
  
"That's great!" she hugged him again. Dixie suddenly brightened, as if remembering something. "Oh, that's right!" She looked back at Brock, who smiled and nodded, setting down his latte. "We've got a surprise for you."  
  
"You'll never guess who we ran into on our way to meet you here, Ash." Brock brushed the ring of cream from his mouth. Looking up expectantly at Ash, he said, "Well, go on. Guess."  
  
"But you said I'd never guess-" Ash started when a cold metal edge found its way to his neck. He could feel the blade pressing against his flesh, digging into him but not quite piercing the skin.  
  
"Stand to, Novice," he heard a ferocious growl from behind him, "And prepare to be defeated at the hands of your better."  
  
Ash recognized the voice immediately. With confident hands, he reached over to the side of his neck and pushed the blade away easily, finding that the wielder was not resisting him. "Just what do you mean, Novice?" He turned around, and just as he had expected, there stood a young man his own age, dressed in a full suit of armor in the style of the ancient warriors of Japan. "Samurai!"  
  
"Ash, my friend!" the two of them swapped handshakes and laughing smiles. Samurai sheathed his sword with one clean stroke, which sang the familiar piercing wail of metal on metal. Most of the coffee-goers in Caribou gave the lad an odd glance, but said nothing. It wasn't often that someone walked around in full armor. "How goes your quest?" the armor-laden lad inquired.  
  
"Well," Ash nodded, motioning for them all to sit back down, "I'm a badge closer today." He pulled out Dexter, double-checking that the device had registered his new badge on its database. "Dex, how many do I have to go?"  
  
"One hundred and fifty-eight." The machine informed him. Dexter offered him a map of the world, with nearly three hundred different markers on the map. Most of the ones around the Islands were blue, as well as the last of the markers in the United States. Unfortunately, that still left Europe and most of Asia untouched, as well as the handful of gyms in Africa and South America. All in all, he was still less than half done, and new gyms were opening up every year. Every now and then, that tiny, nagging voice of doubt would rear up and remind him that what he was doing was insane. He really hated that voice, especially when he thought that it might be right.  
  
Still, Samurai was clearly impressed. "Well done, Ash." He clapped his friend on the shoulder, offering his congratulations. "That is quite the accomplishment. I have never heard of anyone possessing so many badges."  
  
"Just takes perseverance, that's all."  
  
Misty whistled. "Now I'm impressed."  
  
"Why?" he raised his eyebrow. "You didn't think I could be humble?"  
  
"No." she stole Brock's latte and took a long drink. "I didn't think you even knew what 'perseverance' meant." He tapped the cup as she took another drink, causing her to gag and choke briefly.  
  
"So, Samurai," Ash turned back to the new arrival as Misty coughed up a wad of caffeinated brown goo, "What the heck are you doing so far from the island? I mean, you're one of the last people I ever expected to see in this neck of the woods."  
  
Samurai's bright disposition instantly faded as he became very quiet. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tugging at the edges of his armor. "I apologize," he spoke softly, "In the joy of our reuniting, I nearly forgot my reason for coming here."  
  
"What's the matter?" Ash asked, still cheerful. It was his turn to steal Brock's latte, which he polished off much to the annoyance of Brock and Misty. "You look like you're coming to tell me I only have another few months to live."  
  
"If only it were so." Samurai lamented. That caught Ash's full attention. Even Pikachu, who had shanghaied a bottle of ketchup, now listened in as the warrior boy cleared his throat. "I am here on official business for the Indigo League of Kanto." His tone had changed, becoming sharply formal and officious. Reaching into his armor, he withdrew a small white envelope, sealed with the wax emblem of the Indigo League. "It is my duty to inform you, Ashlan Ketchum, that you have been formally charged with violation of League regulations, and will be brought up on those charges." He looked as though he were about to burst out into tears as he handed the letter to Ash.  
  
Ash took the letter with shaking hands. He slipped his finger into the opening and tore the envelope apart, tossing it aside and taking the documents inside in hand. For several terse moments there was absolute silence as he read it. His eyes clouded over with rage with each line he read, growing narrow and alive with fire. "I don't believe this." He said at last. The words escaped his lips in barely a whisper, which was a surefire indicator that Ash was livid. He scanned the documents again, skimming and re-reading the important parts.  
  
"What's going on?" Dixie asked, more confused than the rest. "What on Earth did you do to make the league bring you up on formal charges." She frowned, unable to even consider such a horrible concept. "I don't know how you people do it overseas, but here in the Star League, you have to screw up pretty bad for the League Council to bring you up on charges."  
  
"It's the same in Kanto," Brock explained. "I think in this instance, we might be dealing with a hefty case of politics." He glanced over at Ash with an inquiry. "Let me guess whose signatures are at the bottom of that subpoena..."  
  
The names came out in a half-snarl. "Lorelei and Agatha." He threw the papers down onto the booth's table, slamming them down with the palm of his hands. "They've got me on half a dozen charges." He looked over to Samurai, filled with a mixture of wonder and rage. "How did this happen?"  
  
Samurai's head hung low with shame. "I cannot say for certain. However," he added hesitantly, "I have heard rumors that you violated the Rule of Six several months ago without express written consent from either the Elite Four or the League Champion."  
  
"Rule of Six?" Dixie asked, still more confused than ever.  
  
"It's little more than a written tradition." Ash explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Trainers are only allowed to carry and battle with up to six Pokémon at once."  
  
"It stems from an ancient time when trainers could only care for six at a time." Brock added, hoping that a little historical perspective would take their minds off of the unfairness of the situation. "Back before Pokéballs were created, it was hard to keep track of Pokémon, so the League instigated the rule that only six could be utilized on a journey at any given time."  
  
"But that's silly!" she insisted. "Technology today makes it possible to carry any number of Pokémon at once. Gyms nowadays have their own rules as to how many can be used in the battle, it isn't regulated by the league at all!"  
  
"It is on the Islands." Misty frowned. She picked up the subpoena and began reading it for herself, slowly coming to understand the seriousness of the situation. "Tradition dies hard in the world's oldest league."  
  
"When is the trial?" Ash muttered, keeping his eyes locked onto the tabletop. Samurai had been right. He would have rather heard that he was cursed with a terminal disease than the news that his friend had brought him. Now, it seemed, the League had a barrel over him. He silently cursed the Elite Four, as well as the day he had ever applied for a trainer's license in their blasted league.  
  
"It begins tomorrow."  
  
"TOMORROW!" the other three cried. Even Pikachu's voice sang out in disbelief, chattering madly at Samurai.  
  
"You move like the wind, my friend." Samurai apologized, "The trial date was set months ago, and it took me until now to catch up to you. Now that I have contacted you, a League official will be sent in to mediate the situation." He offered Ash an open-palm gesture. "I am truly sorry, Ashlan. When I was ordered to deliver the papers, I tried to refuse." He looked down. "The others convinced me that it would be best coming from an old friend."  
  
"Others?"  
  
Samurai nodded in affirmation. "You still have friends in the League, Ash. Myself. AJ. Duplica. Young Michael. Even Goodshow helped to convince me to come." He stood, growing resolute in posture. "And now that I am here, I will help in whatever way I can to dismiss this atrocity of justice."  
  
Ash reached over, clasping his shoulder. "Thank you, Samurai. It means a lot to me."  
  
Samurai nodded, collecting himself. "I must go and make for preparations. The town courthouse has been reserved for tomorrow, and the process will begin at ten o'clock sharply. Please, if there is anything I can do-"  
  
"We'll let you know." Ash nodded, releasing him. He knew that Samurai was an honorable warrior and a good friend, and the whole ordeal must have been tearing him up inside. He wasn't about to heap any more guilt or responsibility upon the man's shoulders. As he walked out the door, Ash called out, "I don't suppose you know who the prosecution will be, do you?"  
  
Samurai stopped. "I think you already know who it will be." He said ominously before leaving.  
  
"Of course." Ash muttered to no one in particular. He looked over at his partner, who had ditched the ketchup bottle and was looking at him expectantly. "Pikachu, let's go. We've got some more work to do."  
  
They all stood, except for Dixie. She lagged behind, angry at being left out of the loop. "Wait a minute! Hold on," she demanded as they pulled on their coats. "Who is the prosecution going to be? What's got you so spooked."  
  
Ash's jaw clenched involuntarily. Samurai's attitude towards the subject meant that it could only be one person in the entire world. He uttered the two words he thought could never possibly bring him any more aggravation than they had before, but had somehow topped themselves at that very moment.  
  
"Gary Oak."  
  
* * *  
  
Ash sat cross-legged atop his motel bed, pouring over the words hovering in front of his nose as they scrolled by. His Pokédex rested on the rumpled comforter, projecting legal text as a series of holographic screens. Gear was nearby, using her wireless web in conjunction with the experimental zero-lag connection Oak had designed for her with the Pokédex to put everything they found in front of their user. Ash's head was spinning after hours of searching for something that would help his case, but it was going to be difficult to put together some kind of defense with just a few hours remaining before court.  
  
Dixie sat in the room's only chair, scribbling on a piece of paper. It didn't help Ash's concentration that she looked unbelievably cute in her reading glasses, working diligently at the table on he knew not what. A few times she had caught him staring at her. Whenever that would happen, she would refrain from comment, merely smiling and pointing him back to his own case. As the night turned into morning, she put her pencil down and made her way over to Ash, plopping down behind him on the bed. He bounced up and down as the springs adjusted to her additional weight, keeping his bleary red eyes on the holographic information before him.   
  
Deciding to play it coy, she took her glasses off and placed them over his eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin right on his shoulder. He surrendered to her advances, turning around and giving her a kiss, which she gladly accepted. "You, sir," she informed him with a peck on the nose, "Look terrible."  
  
"Why thank you." He replied solemnly, handing Dixie her reading glasses back. "You look ravishing as well."  
  
"You should get some sleep. It's going to be a rough day." She turned her attention to Dexter's floating information, scanning the text briefly. "Anything good?"  
  
"A precedence or two I can site," Ash nodded glumly, "But I might have to rely on my natural luck for most of this." With a sigh, he clicked Dexter's holoprojector off and leaned back into her waiting embrace.  
  
"And we all know how often that works like a charm." Dexter added his two cents, stealing the words right out of Dixie's mouth.  
  
"It isn't like the poor boy can do much else, Dex." Gear chastised him from across the room. "I'm sure everything will be all right, honey."  
  
'Boy? Honey? She's only a few months old, and already she sounds like my mother.' Ash couldn't help but think. Out loud, though, he said, "So what have you been working on all night?"  
  
"Actually," she tickled him lightly on the ribs until his whining protests ceased, "I was going to ask you if you were done. Gear," she addressed the watch-like machine on the nightstand, "Would you mind helping me with an e-mail?"  
  
"I'd be delighted to help, Dixie." Gear set into motion in an instant, activating her e-mail protocols. "To whom shall I address the letter?"  
  
"Yeah," It was Ash's turn to tickle her this time, which he did mercilessly. "Who are you writing to? Are you telling me there's another guy? Is that it?"  
  
"Stop!" she cried, slapping away his hands playfully. After a moment and a few bruises later, he relented. "It's just to an old friend of mine. A few years back, he and his family moved out to Pokémon Island. We trade e-mails pretty regularly, but with everything that's happened, it's been a long time since I've talked to him. As if it's any business of yours!" she added wryly, clocking him over the head with his own pillow.  
  
"Okay, okay!" he laughed, catching her arms and pulling her into a hug. "I'll leave you to it, then."  
  
"Not without a goodnight kiss you won't." she winked, catching the back of his head and pulling him in. He didn't offer much resistance...her lips, as always, were so welcoming, warm and inviting and-  
  
Cold.  
  
Death.  
  
Pain.  
  
Stars exploded behind Ash's eyes as a deluge of horrid images and feelings washed over him. He reeled back, crying out as his hands flew to his head. The blackness that tore at his soul toppled him from the bed, landing him on the cold wooden floor. Dixie looked on helplessly, repeating Ash's name over and over again with more intensity each time.  
  
"ASH!" she screamed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Ash, what's wrong?!"  
  
That seemed to get through to him. His cries trailed off, his tears ceased. He opened a single eye, looking up at her with his head still cradled in his own hands. "Wh...What..."  
  
"Ash," she said again, helping him up. Concern flooded her gaze as she cupped the edges of his face, searching his eyes for some sign of explanation. "Ash, are you okay? What happened to you?"  
  
"I..." he tried to recall the feelings, and found himself shivering once more. It was unlike anything he ever felt before, as if a wave of pure cold had washed over his soul. The phrase "someone stepping on your grave" had never really been clear to him until just then. Was it the Goddess? Was she trying to tell him something? "I don't know..." he whispered, more to himself than to Dixie's query.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ash, will you just stop playing with it?"  
  
Ash tugged involuntarily at his tie, trying to quell the nervousness that clutched at him from the inside. "I just don't think it's straight." He informed Misty tartly, shifting it from side to side. The truth was, the tie was perfectly straight. The only thing off-kilter at the moment was his nerves.  
  
She sighed impatiently. "Here," she insisted, grabbing him by the tie and dragging him over. Despite his and Brock's protests that she should wear a dress, as Dixie was, she had insisted on wearing a suit as well, renting it from the same place as he and Brock had gotten their black numbers. Hers was a light aquamarine, with polished black heels. Her response to their protests was a half-muttered comment about male chauvinists. Of course, it didn't help Ash's case against her suit that he still wore his trusty League cap. Even Pikachu was dressed up, wearing a tiny black tie to match the stripes on his back.  
  
"Lemmie alone!" he whined as she fixed his tie for the thirtieth time. She just glared at him, yanking the tie up tight and choking him. Coughing, he returned her angry eyes with his own. "Look, I'm a little nervous. I've never been on trial before."  
  
"Pikaaaa." Pikachu agreed. The mouse didn't like the prospect of facing a judge any more than Ash did.  
  
Misty's features softened just a bit. "Okay. I'm sorry."  
  
Ash couldn't help but blink. Did she just apologize? Misty Waterflower...was apologizing? The words shocked him so much that he didn't even notice the couple with a baby stroller walk right into his path. He stumbled over, falling to the ground and nearly knocking the stroller over.  
  
"Nice job, moron." Misty shot at him, helping him to his feet. So much for apologies. She turned to the young couple, bowing in respect. "I'm terribly sorry for my thick-headed friend's clumsiness."  
  
"Oh, not at all." The woman tittered, waving Ash's thoughtlessness off. She and her husband were dressed from head to foot in black, not unlike Ash and Brock's suits, or Dixie's dress. The woman's head was wrapped in a large black and white bonnet, while the man wore a bowler. Both of them would have been considered very stylish, had they lived eighty to ninety years ago. The stroller's baby was hidden beneath a pile of blankets, peeking out from beneath an adorable little hat with a tiny Meowth on it.  
  
"It was an accident." The man affirmed. Then he took a harder look at Ash, squinting right in his face. "Wait a minute. Are you...are you Ash Ketchum?" he inquired with awe. "You are! You are Ash!" Looking down, he spied the other half of the famous duo. "And it's Pikachu!" He dug into his pocket and drew out a pen and pad of paper. "Would you possibly be willing to sign an autograph for us?"  
  
"Uh..." Ash checked his watch. Despite the troubles getting up and going that morning, they were still a few minutes ahead of schedule. "Sure." He turned to his companions, waving them along. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up in a second."  
  
"We just love you, Mr. Ketchum." The man's wife was positively aglow with excitement as Ash's friends walked off. "Even our son. Sometimes we put the match on, and when we try and change the channel, he just throws a fit."  
  
"That's great." Ash assured them, trying to put some enthusiasm into the whole ordeal. He took the pad and pen and began scribbling a quick hello. "Who should I make it out to?"  
  
"Oh," the two exchanged glances, and then the husband said, "Make it out to our son."  
  
Ash leaned in, giving the tyke a big grin. "And what's the little champ's name?" he asked the baby sweetly.  
  
"Meowth." The muffled reply came from the bassinet.  
  
"Is that with or without a double-Wait a minute!" Ash backpedaled, tossing the paper and pen aside. He recognized that voice...that hideous, mangled Brooklyn accent that escaped the child's stroller. Sure enough, Meowth's head poked out from under the blankets, leering at Ash arrogantly. "YOU!"  
  
"PIKA!"  
  
"That's right, twerp." James cackled, tossing aside his disguise and revealing the pristine white Team Rocket uniform underneath, complete with an emblazoned R split across the front of his jacket. "Like the costumes?"  
  
"We've been practicing." Jessie pulled her own façade away with a flourish, grinning with confidence despite the cold draft coming up her miniskirt. "No one can see through our disguise anymore."  
  
Ash sneered, glad to find an opportunity to vent his impotent rage. "Yeah? Well, Pikachu and I are always practicing. Pikachu?" The mouse snarled, charging up its attack. The tiny tie that it wore around its neck began to smoke and fray at the sheer amount of power coursing through its fibers.   
  
Ash suddenly felt something cold and hard jammed into his back. The telltale click a moment later told him that it wasn't anything he was going to like. "Call him off." A quiet, calm voice ordered him from behind, speaking directly into his ear.  
  
Pikachu did an about face, ready to direct its attack at the man threatening its trainer, but Ash held up his hands to ward off the maneuver. "Just like he says, Pikachu." He couldn't count on the man's gun not to go off as he was being electrocuted. "It's okay. Go and get help."  
  
Pikachu took off like a bolt, just in time to avoid Meowth's pounce from his place on the bassinet. The cat face-planted right into the snowy street, cushioned only slightly by the disgusting brown slush. Jessie and James began to give chase, but the man behind Ash waved them off. "Let him go. He won't bring help in time."  
  
"So," Ash growled at the trio as they stood haughtily before him. "You just wanted an autograph, huh?" All he got was a glare and two faces pulled at him.  
  
"No," the voice answered him. "I did. Turn around. Slow." Ash did as he was told, rotating in place with shuffling steps. Whatever Ash was expecting his attacker to be, the man certainly wasn't it. He was tall and pale, with tussled brown hair parted neatly to one side. Two beady brown eyes peered out from beneath a low hanging brow, glinting in the snow's reflected sunlight. He wore a brown overcoat sashed tightly at the waist, with black garments underneath.   
  
They sized each other up for several tense seconds, both involuntarily tensing up. It was Ash who broke the silence, raising an eyebrow. "So, which one are you? Pi?"  
  
"Smart, aren't you?" the man smirked. "No. My name is Omega. Perhaps you've heard of my team?"  
  
"Your team?"  
  
Omega's features grew dark at the thought of the past few months of embarrassment. "You've humiliated the Omega Red for the last time." He leaned in close, hovering just a few inches away from Ash's face. "You crushed my ronin. You flash-fried my strong woman. You cowed my marksman. You left my master of disguise a broken sack of meat."  
  
"Master of who now?"  
  
Omega pulled back, taking care to keep the gun well hidden from public sight. He continued to examine the boy visually, rubbing his chin. "I have to say, I thought you'd be taller."  
  
"I get that a lot." Ash's patience snapped. "Look, if you're going to do it, then get it over with and just kill me!"  
  
"Keep your voice down." Omega cautioned him with a wave of his gun. "I'm not going to kill you in the middle of a public street in broad daylight. That would be rude and unprofessional."  
  
"Then why-"  
  
"I just wanted to meet you." Omega pocketed the sidearm, digging his hands deep into his coat to stave off the cold. He wasn't used to the bitter, frosty weather of Alaska, but he had too much pride in what he did to let it affect his work. "I wanted to see the boy that defeated the Omega Red."  
  
"I just want you to know," Ash warned him, keeping his voice as cold and menacing as possible, "I won't go down easy." He leaned in further, growing angrier at the sheer audacity and arrogance of this criminal murderer. "And I promise you: I won't go down alone."  
  
Omega simply smiled. "On your way, young lad. You have some business to take care of." Ash began stalking off, torn between rage and fear. "Oh, and Ash?" The boy turned his head, glancing back at his name's mention. "See you around."  
  
* * *  
  
"Have we reached the chamber yet?"  
  
Rocko rolled his eyes, pulling his hardhat tightly over his brow as he walked on with his pickaxe slung over his shoulder. A small man trailed behind him, wearing a white coat that hung down to his ankles. Deep underground in the coal mines just outside of Snowfort, the labcoat's white edges were turning brown with black soot that matted the ground like a carpet. The man's presence in the mine was rather amusing to Rocko and his dayshift dig crew; he barely came up to their collars, and was no more than half as wide.  
  
"I'll let you know when we reach it." Rocko assured him in a gruff voice. "Until then, just sit down and shut up."  
  
"I will have you know," the man assured him, "That I have the full backing of the American Scientific Council. If you so much as harm that chamber-"  
  
"Look," Rocko continued down the dimly lit tunnel, squeezing in between two of his men coming up for their break, "What's so important about this "chamber" thing?" The scientist squeezed past as well, ducking beneath their tools lest he lose head. "This area's full of geological oddities like that. It's nothing but a pocket of air, or maybe some other, less friendly gas. Oh, by the way, you're going to want this." He unhooked a mask from his belt, handing it back to the scientist without looking.  
  
The scientist grabbed the mask, yanking it from Rocko's grip. "I've done research on the area in conjunction with the Pokémopolitan project currently going on outside of a small town on Pokémon Island," he explained, "And it is the opinion of myself and my associates that-"  
  
"Could we possibly speed things up a bit?"  
  
"We believe this site is the location of a Pokémopolitan temple," he spilled quickly. Rocko stopped at this, which the scientist took to be an opening to continue. "We...that is my fellow researchers and I, we believe that this site was built to honor a very powerful Pokémon-"  
  
"What in blazes is a Pokémopolitan?" Rocko scratched his head, moving to the end of the tunnel and into the metal grate lift he and his men had set up to access the lower level. The scientist following him just managed to slip in as he shut the door with a clang, pulling the lever to take them down. "Sounds like a French film, or something."  
  
The scientist nearly had a stroke. "The Pokémopolitans," he raved, "Were the most powerful group of people in the history of...of...all of history! They predated the Celtics, the Byzantines, the Egyptians, even the Romans! They ruled an empire that spanned the globe from their capitol city of Pokémopolis. Some even say that they created Pokémon themse-"  
  
"We're here." Rocko thanked providence that the scientist finally shut up as they approached the southern wall of the mine. Their dig had hit a large cavern several weeks before, which branched out into dozens of smaller tunnels. One tunnel in particular had held their interest, which, by coincidence, was the one the scientists were interested in. The southernmost tunnel had halted a hundred yards in, blocked off by a perfectly smooth wall of frozen, solidified magma. It wouldn't have been so odd, except they were surrounded by sedimentary deposits, and there wasn't a volcanic vein in the earth's crust for at least fifteen miles.  
  
The scientist's jaw dropped open as he gaped at the towering ceilings of the cavern. "Oh my God..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Once again, the scientist dodged a stroke by mere centimeters as he went off on another one of his boring tangents. "This room is a perfect hemisphere!" When he saw Rocko's questioning look, the scientist took his flashlight and shined it up at the ceiling, adding to the electric lanterns set up all around the perimeter. "Look at the ceiling. See those stalactites?" At Rocko's nod, he continued, "Now, try and imagine the entire room without the stalactites, or the stalagmites." He shook the flashlight's beam about excitedly, swaying the light to and fro. "I can't be certain until we've taken some measurements, but I'm willing to bet my pocket protector that it's exactly one half of a sphere."  
  
They continued on, moving towards the passage in question. "And why is that so important?" Rocko made the mistake of asking. "So it's a hemisphere. So what?"  
  
"Hemispheres don't form naturally, my blue-collared friend." The scientist informed him. "The Pokémopolitans prided themselves on being master architects. This is exactly the kind of work they would have..." He trailed off as they reached the end of the southern passage, his voice growing silent in a heartbeat. Rocko had instructed his men to set up any extra lanterns around the smooth wall in anticipation of the scientist's arrival.   
  
"This is it." Rocko set his pickaxe down and leaned next to it against the wall. He rolled his eyes once again as the scientist nearly exploded with ecstasy, running up to the wall and running his hands over the smooth volcanic rock. The black stone stood out from the sedimentary deposits surrounding them from all sides of the tunnel, covered in a thin layer of dust from the excavation. "Should I leave the two of you alone?"  
  
"This is incredible!" the scientist screeched in delight, pulling brushes and tiny picks from his white coat. He began to brush away the dirt and debris layered on the rock face. "I mean, this can't possibly be natural, it just-" He stopped cold. The metal pick clutched delicately between his fingers clattered to the ground, followed quickly by his brush. "Oh my lord..."  
  
His utter silence piqued Rocko's curiosity. Despite his good sense, he approached the man and leaned in over his shoulder. "What? Anything important?"  
  
His eyes scanned the reflective black surface, searching the area the scientist had recently cleared. Rocko felt his own amazement grow as the tiny inscriptions slowly came into focus. He reached out, brushing his fingers over the tiny, organized scratches. The stone felt warm to the touch, and seemed to pulse faintly against his skin as if it were somehow alive.  
  
The scientist slapped his hands away. "Careful, you boob!" he cried, trying to push Rocko away, but lacking the body mass to do so. "These inscriptions are thousands of years old. They're very delicate!"  
  
"What do they say?" Rocko whispered the question, filled with a sense of awe that had come from nowhere. He wasn't the type to get interested in a bunch of old rocks, seeing as how it was his job to clear them away every day for the rest of his life, but he had never found an artifact before. It held a spell over him; the stone called to him, begging him to find out what was inside.  
  
"I intend to find out." The scientist looked to him, held under the same spell. "Can your men remove this stone face without damaging it?" For the first time since their meeting, the scientist's voice held no sense of superiority, no contempt for Rocko.  
  
"Yeah...it'll take some time, but yeah." He pulled out his radio to call his best dig team, running through some quick calculations in his head for widening the tunnel so as to remove the rock face.  
  
"Good." The scientist whispered. "Then let's start immediately." Despite his admonishing earlier, he couldn't help but touch the stone as Rocko had. A tingle ran through his fingertips and down his spine, chilling him to the bone. Whatever was behind this unusual find was going to be big.  
  
Very big.  
  
* * *  
  
Ash's face was broadcasting general despair at the moment, and not one force in the universe could lead him to care. It wasn't the hard, uncomfortable wooden chairs that the court had provided, or the fact that he was wearing a suit that was a size too small for him. No, as he tugged at the tight, restrictive collar, he decided that it was everything else the cosmos was throwing at him that had gotten him down. As such, his usually calm, confident demeanor had gone straight out the window and was currently squatting in three feet of filthy frozen snow, and he just didn't care. Brock sat next to him, occasionally tossing him concerned looks and asking him whispered questions, mostly about his pale complexion, but Ash simply waved him off and insisted that he was fine.   
  
Misty and Dixie sat near the back of the courtroom as per his request; as much as he relied on them both, this was his fight, and at the moment there was only one person capable of helping him. The fact that the person needed Brock's help at the moment meant that Brock would be caught in the crossfire as well, and for that Ash felt a rather large amount of guilt. He knew that if Brock's own reputation were to be tarnished by this sordid affair that his friend would never say two words about any of it, but that wouldn't take away the fact that it was his fault.  
  
Sitting before them was a tall tower of polished oak, where a judge would take the entirety of his life for the past six years boiled down to statistics and evaluate him based on those numbers and facts. He had read the evidence that Gary and the others among Indigo's top ranks had piled against him, and he couldn't say that he liked it. Ash had never been in a courtroom before, and the entire setting made him nervous. It smelled of lemon and wood polish, and the empty jury box on the far right of the room reminded him that he would not be judged by a group of his peers, but by a League official, and that might have made all the difference.  
  
The large double doors swung back and forth, parting to allow a small flock of people enter the room. Ash and Brock both craned their necks to see who it was, and Ash's worried complexion immediately darkened. Entering the room, clad in a black suit identical to Ash's was Garret Oak, current Indigo League champion and prosecutor for this trial. He had cut his hair, cropping it close to his scalp and giving him a buzzed appearance. A small black folder was tucked beneath his arm, cradled as if it were the Holy Grail. He passed by Ash, unwilling to meet his fellow trainer's gaze. The look in his eye was crystal clear, however; if he had his way, they would not be fellow trainers by the end of the day.  
  
Two figures trailed after Gary, both dressed in dark black suit dresses. The women were polar opposites; one beautiful and young, the other ancient and wizen. However, when the feminine half of the Elite Four caught sight of Ash Ketchum, their eyes became indistinguishable from each other's, filled with such hatred that mortal men hoped never to see.  
  
Ash stared into the bath of loathing coming from Agatha and Lorelei without batting an eye. After years as the League Champion himself, he was more than used to the fact that those two had it out for him. The reason behind their anger had always escaped him, but in truth, he couldn't have cared less. Ash had been more than willing to let bygones be bygones, but now they had struck a low blow; now they had dragged him back in. They were trying to take away that which he loved most of all. Ash glanced down at Pikachu, and felt a small sliver of warmth as his Pokémon returned the look with confidence and trust brimming in its deep, dark eyes. Silently, he swore to himself and his friends that he would not let them down, that they would not separate the family they had created.  
  
The court's bailiff strode into the room, wearing his traditional sidearm. He was attached to the courthouse, and so had no real experience with a League trial. "All rise," he called out in a booming bass, "For the honorable Judge Evans."  
  
The double doors to the backroom swung open as a sleight, balding man wearing flowing robes of midnight strode into the room, carrying a gold-trimmed gavel. "Thank you. Please be seated." He murmured as he took the bench, hoisting himself up to the high seat of office. "Court is now in session. First and only case of the day; the Indigo League of Kanto verses Ashlan T. Ketchum on the grounds of willful neglect and endangerment of Pokémon, disregard for the safety of others while training and battling Pokémon, and upwards of one-hundred and twelve separate violations of League regulations, most recent of which being the Rule of Six."  
  
Ash swallowed hard, casting a glance over at Brock. His friend tried to give him a supportive look, but the Rock trainer looked equally as green around the gills. Ash had already read over the charges against him, but it sounded like an awful lot coming from an official judge of the league.  
  
The judge cast a long, examining glare over the bridge of his black spectacles at Ash before looking down at the case file sitting in front of him. "I've taken a cursory look over the prosecution's case, and have deemed that there is sufficient evidence to warrant a trial. Therefore, you will each be given fifteen minutes for an opening statement, after which court will be in recess for one hour so that I may familiarize myself further with the case before hearing the arguments." Evans turned his attention to Gary, motioning for him to rise. "Mr. Prosecutor, you may begin."  
  
Gary took one last look at his thick folder before standing. He straightened his suit coat, approaching the bench calmly, running a hand across his prickly scalp. Clearing his throat, he began to speak crisply and quickly. "Your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the court. Distinguished guests," he indicated Lorelei and Agatha seated at his table. Oddly enough, there seemed to be a bit more emphasis on 'distinguished' than Ash, Misty, or Brock would have expected. The tiny detail passed by Dixie and the rest of the unfamiliar court, who were far more interested in the rest of the speech. "I stand before you here today with a mission, a mission of paramount importance; to revoke the training license of one Ash Ketchum." At the name, Gary waved a hand at Ash's table.   
  
Ash was suddenly filled with murderous rage, and very nearly leapt from the table with chair in hand to beat the very life out of Gary. It was Brock's quick reflexes that stopped him before he ever rose from his chair. The bailiff caught the sudden twitch, and shot Ash a look that suggested he think otherwise.  
  
Oblivious to Ash's anger, Gary continued, "I have here," he held up the black folder, "A list of League violations committed by Mr. Ketchum. These are not simply minor violations, such as his recent disregard for the League's Rule of Six. No." His head hung low for a moment, and he took noticeable pause before continuing. "There are at least seventy-two instances in which he placed his Pokémon in unnecessary and mortal danger. To list a few," he pulled a sheet of paper from the stack within the folder, "The destruction of the Viridian City Pokémon Center, which occurred within forty-eight hours of obtaining his license. The destruction of the Cinnibar Island Gym-"  
  
"That WASN'T my fault!" Ash shot, but was immediately silenced by Evans' furious gavel.  
  
"Mr. Ketchum," Judge Evans boomed, "You will be respectful of the prosecution, you will be respectful of my court, you will be silent, or YOU, Mr. Ketchum," his gavel jabbed in Ash's direction dangerously, "Will be held in contempt of court. Understood?"  
  
Gary continued at Ash's defeated nod. "The destruction of the Viridian City Gym, the mysterious focal point of natural disasters recorded in the Orange Islands nearly five years ago-"  
  
Evans waved him off. "Enough. Mr. Oak, you have established that disaster tends to follow Mr. Ketchum quite frequently. Are you prepared to prove that he is responsible for said disasters?"  
  
"I am, your honor."  
  
The judge nodded. "Very well. Please be seated." Evans looked to Ash's table as Gary took his seat. He then nodded to Brock. "Counselor, you have the floor for your opening statement."  
  
Brock rose, straightening his jacket. "Thank you, your honor," he approached the bench slowly, "But I will not be serving as Mr. Ketchum's attorney. Rather, I will be assisting him."  
  
Evans frowned as a quiet muttering passed through the courtroom like a living wave. "Mr. Stone, is it?" He peered around Brock, looking about the front of the courtroom. "If you are not Mr. Ketchum's lawyer, than who is?"  
  
"Someone far better versed in Indigo law than myself." Brock reached into his pocket, pulling out a small red device and flipping its cover open to reveal a myriad of technological interfaces and screens that came to life in a heartbeat.  
  
"Pokédex Unit Four, fifth generation, model DEX IV." Dexter introduced himself with a beep. "Your honor, if it pleases the court-"  
  
"Your honor, I object!" It was Lorelei who stood and shouted, rising in a swirl of feminine righteousness packed into a blouse two sizes too small. "This is ridiculous! Mr. Ketchum cannot be represented by a pocket calculator. I demand that he get proper legal council." 'So that he can't whine when he loses,' was the unspoken part she passed along to Ash via a smug gaze.  
  
"I must admit," Evans eyed the device suspiciously, "It is unseemly for someone to be represented by a machine."  
  
"It's also unseemly for a grown man under three hundred pounds to wear a black muumuu out of season," Dexter countered, "But I was too polite to mention it."  
  
Evans seemed taken aback by the quip, so Brock took advantage of his momentary speechlessness to add, "The Pokédex has been programmed with all legal documentation concerning Indigo law, including all nine thousand pages of regulations and all transcripts of cases for the past two hundred years."  
  
Evans still seemed unsure. "While odd, I cannot think of any stipulations that negate the use of a machine as legal council. However," he jabbed his gavel at Brock's hand, "I suggest that you keep that device in line, Mr. Stone."  
  
Dexter muttered something inaudible before continuing. "As I was saying before I was so skankily interrupted," There was a small squeak of indignation from Lorelei as she sat down, "We intend to prove that Mr. Ash Ketchum is not only a model trainer, but also a credit to the human species. In addition, he has minty fresh breath, and looks both ways before crossing the street."  
  
"Mr. Dex." Evans' tone contained a sharp tone of warning, one that even Dexter could not overlook.  
  
"I'm sorry, your honor." Clearing a throat he did not have, Dexter continued, "We of the defense intend to show the court that Mr. Ketchum's so-called 'spotty' record is a result of his aid towards others, oftentimes in conjunction with the antics of a certain international crime ring known publicly as Team Rocket. In short, ladies and gentlemen," Dexter finished with his grand slammer, "Mr. Ketchum is on trial for being a generous, caring person."  
  
* * *  
  
Ash groaned, leaning up against the vending machines in the lobby. His hat tilted down into his face as he slid down the side of the snack machine, squeaking against the glass all the way to the grimy floor. "This just isn't my day." He moaned, cradling his face with his hands.  
  
"It'll be okay, Ash." Gear tried to cheer him up from his wrist with soothing reassurances, but they were lost on his deaf ears. "Dexter will think of something…won't you, Dexter?"  
  
"Is this a bad time to mention that I don't work on contingency?" Dexter quipped from within Brock's pocket.  
  
The young trainer ignored them all, thumping his head against the machine in frustration. Not only did he have to deal with this whole trial, but once he stepped outside he was probably going to be killed with a sniper's bullet from three hundred yards without ever seeing it coming. Worst of all, he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going to happen, something even worse than anything else that had happened today.  
  
The door to the courtroom swung open, piercing Ash's pity trip. He looked up to find Gary standing a few feet from him and his friends, shifting uncomfortably in polished black shoes. Ash immediately sprung to his feet, fists cocked and mind clouded with pure, unadulterated rage. "You have a lot of nerve to step within ten meters of me without a bailiff around, Oak." He snarled. Brock immediately made a move to catch him before he could try to kill Gary, but he had no intention of becoming physical just yet. There were some words that needed to be exchanged first.  
  
Gary simply stared at him, silent as a tomb. There was an indiscernible look about him, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite put it into words. In the end, all he could do was look at the floor and squeak, "I'm sorry, Ash."  
  
"Sorry?" Ash couldn't believe his ears. Gary had just stood in front of a crowd of people…in front of an official judge of the League…and claimed that Ash was an embarrassment to trainers everywhere, and now he was sorry? "SORRY?" Now Brock had to hold Ash back; the brawny gym leader struggled to keep Ash from doing something he would later regret, surprised at Ash's hidden strength. "Don't you dare say that to me, you little fungus!"  
  
"Believe it or don't," Gary snapped at him, feeding off of Ash's anger and reflecting it. "I don't want to be here any more than you do, Ash." His anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, and his features became dour once more. "There's nothing I can-"  
  
"OAK!"  
  
They turned to the outside door of the courthouse just in time to catch an icy blast of wind to the face. As the tears from the stinging cold receded, Ash caught sight of a figure clad in dark winter robes. He removed the heavy cowl from his face, revealing angular Asian features twisted into a furious scowl that very nearly burned a hole through Gary Oak. Samurai removed the warm robes with a flourish, revealing a pressed suit beneath. Though he was without armor, his sword was still strapped deftly to his hip.  
  
"Garrett Oak," Samurai snarled, "I hereby challenge you to a Pokémon match. He drew a capture sphere from his jacket, expanding it to full size as he strode forward. "The loser shall renounce their trainership and be forever shamed!" He thrust the ball defiantly into Gary's face, trying unsuccessfully to intimidate the shameful trainer; Gary didn't even blink.  
  
"I'm not afraid of you, sword-slinger." Gary spat darkly.  
  
Samurai stole a glance over Gary's shoulder, and a smile began to creep onto his face. "Then perhaps you should be afraid of her, yes?" he asked with a nod.  
  
Gary risked a glance over his shoulder, and was immediately filled with a cold, sickly fear at the sight of a shock of stunning crimson hair. "Oh God, NO!"  
  
Misty stood in the doorway of the courtroom with Dixie at her shoulder. Her face had color creeping slowly from the neck up, growing red enough to match her tangled locks. "Gary…" she growled in a low, dangerous voice. Her jacket was off before any of them knew it, handed off to Dixie in a tumble of blue cloth as she pushed the sleeves of her silk blouse up past the elbows. With deliberate, unhurried steps she advanced on the cornered prosecutor, her fists balled and eyes blazing.  
  
Gary backpedaled until he slammed into the vending machines so hard it spat out three cans of Diet Caterpie Cola. Misty caught up with him, giving him a hearty shove and putting him back up onto the machines hard enough to receive another two cans. "Ahhhh…so-rahhhhh…" Gary choked as her hands found their way to his neck.  
  
"I swear to you," Misty snarled as Ash and Brock grabbed hold of her hands, trying to pry her off, "It doesn't matter what the outcome of this case is. It doesn't matter where you go." Her eyes met with his as she hovered mere inches from his face. "It doesn't matter what you do. I will find you, and I will make you suffer like no other human being has ever suffered before I finish you off slowly torturously, excruciatingly, and painfully…oh, so very painfully."  
  
Gary simply trembled as Ash and Brock finally found the strength to pull her away. He gasped and clawed at his throat, coughing furiously as she was dragged off kicking and screaming. "Nothing…I can…do." He insisted as Dixie and Samurai accompanied the struggling trio. Despite the stress to his windpipe, Gary really couldn't blame any of them for hating him. He watched them go off down the hall, wanting desperately to explain, to apologize again, to make things right…but in the end, all he would end up doing…all he could do…was to bring them more misery.  
  
The worst wasn't over. It was only beginning.  
  
* * *  
  
"What in blazes were you thinking?" Ash practically shouted at her as he and Brock threw her onto the floor several twists and turns down the hall. He snagged her blue coat from Dixie and tossed it at her, covering her face.   
  
  
  
As she pulled the material away from her head, she couldn't believe how angry Ash was with her. She had seen him livid before, but never at her; as he looked at her now, she saw nothing but rage from his eyes. She couldn't meet his gaze, and instead looked down at the floor. "I just…I wanted to help."  
  
  
  
"Help?" he spat, foaming at the mouth so badly he had to give pause to wipe away the spittle, "You call that helping?" His feet began to pace the floor wildly, nearly taking Pikachu's tail off and forcing the Pokémon to scamper to safety. "You assaulted my prosecutor in the middle of a courthouse! You threatened to kill him!" He spun back around to face her, raising his hands for emphasis. "Do you have any idea what they're going to do to me now?"  
  
  
  
"No." she squeaked. Her blue eyes wavered as she shrank back from Ash for the very first time.  
  
  
  
He exploded in frustration, shouting impotently at the ceiling. "Neither do I! But you can bet," he added in a hoarse growl, "That they're going to use every card they have against me, and you just gave them the freakin' Ace of Spades!"  
  
  
  
Dixie laid her hand on his shoulder, pulling him gently from his tirade directed at Misty. "That's enough, Ash," she drawled softly in his ear, but loudly enough for the rest of them. "She was only trying to help. It isn't her fault."  
  
  
  
"Pi…" Pikachu added its own two cents, tugging on Ash's pant leg with its tiny claw. "Pikachu. Pi, pika pika pi pi chu."  
  
  
  
"I just…" He fumed, helpless against her tiny hand. He knew it wasn't Misty's fault. He knew that she had acted without thinking, a mistake that he was guilty of countless times. It was just that with everything else going on, he didn't need her adding to it. He just felt so angry, and helpless, and-  
  
Cold.  
  
Pain.  
  
Death.  
  
Ash clutched his head, falling to his knees as the unknown feeling swarmed over him a second time. A primal scream unlike any heard before escaped his lips, echoing down the hallowed halls of justice. The scream caused his friends to stand back, uncertain of what to do. Likewise, Ash was powerless to stop the shadow of pure, icy obsidian that swallowed his soul.   
  
  
  
Though it seemed to go on forever, the feeling passed in a handful of seconds. Repossessed of his senses, Ash halted his cry, uncapping his hands from his ears with shuddering breath. Tears ran down his cheeks as he pushed himself up onto his knees, heaving greedy breaths into his tortured lungs, a cold sweat suddenly soaking his undershirt and pouring off of his face.  
  
  
  
"Ash!" his friends recovered from their shock, rushing forward in unison and helping him to his feet. He dusted himself off, brushing aside their help, but grateful for it nonetheless.  
  
  
  
"Pika!"  
  
  
  
"I guess Misty finally gave him that stroke I always said she would." Brock quipped, and received a slap on the shoulder from both women.   
  
  
  
Samurai, in the meantime, shook his head solemnly. His hand rested on his sword, as it always did when he felt ill at ease. "A cold wind has blown through here. I can sense it," he locked eyes with Ash, "And I suspect you did as well, no?"  
  
  
  
Ash nodded slowly, swaying unsteadily on his feet. Reaching out to Dixie to help steady himself, he wiped away the sheen of sweat coating his forehead. "Black…coal…darkness…under…the ground…" The words escaped his lips without any understanding. His head was filled with images: a dark tunnel winding down into the pits of hell itself; a pair of glowing crimson eyes looming in the inky blackness; lives being lost, souls being tossed into the void without pause or thought…  
  
  
  
"What does it all mean?" Misty asked, rising in tandem with Ash with concern splayed across her delicate features. "What's this darkness?"  
  
  
  
"It's starting again." Ash looked between her, Brock and Pikachu.  
  
  
  
Dixie and Samurai were even more confused than before. "What's starting?" Dixie was the first to ask.  
  
  
  
"Mount Moon." He muttered, gaining more equilibrium with each passing second, "It started at Mount Moon, and now it has come here."  
  
  
  
Though the wayward warrior and his southern belle didn't understand, he knew that his two friends knew in an instant what he referred to; it had been almost a year since his battle with the terrifying black mist of death, Missingno. Was Missingno back to finish the job it had started so many months ago?  
  
  
  
"What do we do?" Brock was all business now. His face became grim-set and stony, his demeanor strong and determined. "What can we do to help?"  
  
They both knew the answer, even before Ash spoke it. "I have to go."  
  
  
  
"Go?" the muffled cry erupted from Brock's pocket. "Excuse me, but in case no one's noticed, we have a trial going on here that's going to decide the fate of the rest of your LIFE!" Brock brought him out, holding him in the middle of their impromptu huddle. "What exactly could be important enough for you to leave in the middle of our trial date?"  
  
Simple." Ash chuckled ruefully, knowing full well it wasn't. The answer was that he needed to be there, in the courtroom, and he also needed to find the source of the disturbance. So, simply put; "I'll have to be in two places at once."  
  
  
  
"Oh. Ha. Ha ha." Dexter laughed forcibly. "How droll. How very amusing. Have you given thought to the fact that, as a corporeal being subject to the laws of time, space, and physics, you can't be in two places simultaneously?"  
  
His mind raced in an uncharacteristic burst of thought as he ran through their collective assets. The obvious solution would be to send a duplicate in his place in the courtroom while he handled whatever situation cropped up in the foothills beyond Snowfort's borders.   
  
But who? Brock had already taken his place at Ash's side in court, and besides which, his massive frame could never pass for Ash's relatively wiry body. He and Samurai were closer in build, but the warrior would undoubtedly be tripped up once Gary started to play hardball. Silently, he wished Duplica had been the one to deliver the subpoena instead of Samurai. Despite the welcome sight of his old friend, Duplica's mastery of change and disguise would have saved the day. Even then, though, she wouldn't have been able to answer all of the questions from his past. In fact, aside from Brock, the only other person on Earth who could answer the questions to come would be…would be…  
  
  
  
A slow grin blossomed on Ash's face as he turned back to Misty. His hand rubbed across his smooth jaw, comparing her athletic frame with his own. "Misty…" he intoned slowly, "Have I ever told you what a feminine bloom you've turned out to be?"  
  
"No…" her gaze shifted uncomfortably, afraid of where the conversation was headed.  
  
  
  
He nodded to himself, taking his suit's jacket off and draping it across her shoulders. "There's a reason for that." As she huffed indignantly, he reactivated Gear's primary program, bringing her personality back online from its hibernation. "Gear, is that little toy the Professor was working on operational?"  
  
"Affirmative." Gear informed him, "However, while I estimate satisfactory performance, I can only guarantee a seventy-eight-point-two percent effectiveness." A small section of her casing detached, allowing Ash to pull it off effortlessly and examine it between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
  
  
"It'll do perfectly. Pull up a search engine; I need a hair salon that takes walk-ins, and takes them fast." Turning back to his befuddled beauty, he threw an arm over Misty's frame, giving her an encouraging grin. "Misty," he said, "I'm about to pay you the highest form of compliment." Before she could ask, he clarified with a wave of his hand, "I am going to make you…into me."  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh my dear, sweet lord…"  
  
Rocko stood by the scientist as they gazed into the cavernous space for the first time. He and his crews had removed the plug, propping the circular stone up against the wall of the inner chamber. Several large lanterns had already been set up around the floor, shedding soft amber light across the obsidian walls and casting long, ominous shadows that teased and terrified the mind. Despite his own jaded skepticism, Rocko found himself agreeing with the scientist's sentiment; it truly was something to behold.  
  
Despite the enormity of the room, it appeared at first glance to be completely empty. The first things to catch the eye were the long, dusky white inscriptions that ran from floor to ceiling in the cylindrical room, surrounding them on all sides with intelligible volumes of information. Letting his neck swivel every which way to take in the scriptures and pictographs, he muttered, "What do you suppose they mean?"  
  
"I don't know." The scientist's voice was equally soft. "Pokémopolitan is a deceptively difficult language to translate. It could take decades to translate that door." His feet brought him into the room without thought, taking him to the nearest set of writing. He ran his finger over several of the letters, feeling the cool tingle of the white, gritty lines cut into the mysterious black stone. The tactile sensation jolted through him like a bolt of electricity and left something within him…something dark, shapeless and pleasing.  
  
  
  
"Hey, what's that?"  
  
Rocko's question drew the scientist away from the runes. He saw the brutish, simple miner standing in the center of the room. As he repositioned a light, his scientist companion was able to make out the object of his curiosity; a small black pedestal sat atop a raised platform of dark grey rock, the only object in the room.  
  
"Don't touch it, you fool!" The scientist rushed over, all but knocking Rocko right off of his feet as he put himself between Rocko and the pedestal. He bent over, bringing the light down closer to better examine the platform. "It could be a fantastic artifact, or a phenomenally old religious relic, or…"  
  
"Or?" Rocko groused, regaining his balance. "What is it, an ancient Poké-moplopo-whatsit egg beater?"  
  
  
  
The scientist didn't even hear him. He stood, transfixed upon the pedestal as if hypnotized somehow. With growing curiosity, Rocko looked over the scientist's shoulder to investigate, and drew in a sharp breath at the sight before him. There, sitting on top of the black pedestal was a small black orb, a perfect sphere of solid obsidian that gleamed in the dim, unnatural light of the electric lamps. It was flawlessly smooth despite its age and the age of all around it, and devoid of the perpetual dust that seemed to have worked its way into every other craggy surface in the hemispherical room.  
  
Both men breathed shallowly with shuddering lungs, mesmerized beyond conscious thought by the sight of the orb. The scientist, having discovered the orb first, seemed more deeply held by its spell. He could hear something within it calling to him, whispering in a velvety soft voice with promises of power and wealth. 'Come to me…Embrace me…' the voice insisted softly.  
  
"Yes…" the scientist murmured. Power. Ultimate power. It would all be his. He just had to reach out…touch the power…and he would become power. Force itself. His hand grazed the surface tentatively, as if some last lingering doubts were holding him back, but he soon conquered them, and cupped the black sphere firmly in his hand. The ball lifted easily from its place on the pedestal as the scientist held it aloft, reveling in its beauty. His head swam with energy, his soul fed off of it as the chi flowed from the ball and into his body.  
  
Three seconds later, all hell broke lose.  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Ash sighed contently, taking a small breather at the top of the ridge that he, Pikachu, Dixie and Samurai had been hiking along. They could have followed the trail, but even laden with their packs, it was faster to move cross-country. His toes wiggled in their tennis shoes, free at last from the dress socks and polished loafers, and his hatless head of hair wafted gently in the breeze. It almost didn't matter to him that it took a crisis of biblical proportions to get him out of those dress clothes. After months of hopping from city to city, it felt all too good to be back out in the middle of nature itself with nothing but the pack on his shoulders and miles of wide open mountains in every direction.  
  
"Pika?"  
  
He looked down at Pikachu, giving his mousy companion a small, forced grin. In the past year since his battle with Missingno, since his introduction into a world far beyond the scope of his ability to understand, he had forgotten the path that he walked. No, it was worse; he had pushed it aside, unable or unwilling to deal with the titanic responsibility that had been thrust onto him. "Almost there…I think." He turned back, querying the trotting pair behind him. "We almost there yet?"  
  
Dixie held a map in front of her, trying to read it as it fluttered in the wind. "Almost, Ash." She called up, grunting as her aching calves and thighs lifted her up the last few feet of the ridge's crest. "I think the entrance to the mine's just down there." Reaching Ash, she pointed down into the sprawling valley below. Squinting, Ash peered downward, shielding his eyes from the sun with a free hand. Pikachu mimicked him, just barely spotting the heavy machinery parked next to a large mound of waste material.  
  
Samurai, slower than the other two thanks to his protective armor, huffed to join them. "Excellent." He grunted with red cheeks. "Not that I mind the exercise, mind you," he added hastily between gulping breaths, "But the sooner we find the source of the-"  
  
"Whoa." Ash suddenly scowled. His hand shot to his temple as he staggered slightly. It was only by Dixie's steadying hand that he didn't topple over the ridge and tumble all the way down to the bottom.  
  
  
  
"What-"  
  
  
  
Ash cut Dixie's question off, shaking his head to diffuse the dark feeling that struck him. After the first two times, he knew what to expect, and could handle it better. "We've got bad mojo…" Ash muttered grimly, gazing down into the valley.  
  
  
  
Samurai took his helmet off, wiping his brow. "We know that, Ash. That is why we journey towards-"  
  
  
  
"No," Ash insisted urgently. "I mean, we have bad mojo 'right now'."  
  
  
  
Spying about for a moment, Dixie raised a finger in triumph, pointing just a few meters down the way. "There's a trail that can take us down. It shouldn't take long."  
  
  
  
"Let's-"  
  
  
  
Ash's commanding tone was cut abruptly as a spray of rock and soil was tossed into the air, accompanied by a deafening roar that very nearly popped their ear drums. They stumbled back, spitting dust and dirt, blinking it away. Through the constant ringing and over the sound of his own coughing, Ash heard a single, booming voice pierce the cloud of debris:  
  
"The first shot was a warning for your little friends, Ketchum." The dirt settled, revealing one of Ash's worst nightmares standing across the ravine on the other ridge. Though difficult to see in the distance, Ash could make out a lone figure frozen in a jaunty pose, decked out in a coal black jumpsuit with bright red trim. He wore a large, metallic rig strapped to his back, with several launch racks at the shoulders still smoldering from his first shots.   
  
"Who in blazes is that?" Dixie coughed.  
  
His eyes narrowed. "An assassin." He growled. "The last assassin."  
  
"That's right, Ash." Omega agreed, loading up another pair of missiles into his launch tubes. "Now, tell your little buddies to skedaddle, or they might find themselves on the wrong end of some unjust retribution."  
  
  
  
"God," Ash grumbled, "Why do they all want to talk my ears off?" His hand strayed towards his belt. He could feel the air about them charge suddenly as Pikachu began powering up, increasing the chemical reactions in the sacs on its cheeks that provided its bioelectricity. "Pikachu, we need a defensive lightning spread. Charizard and Pidgeot will attack from the air while I rig the balls' targeting sensors to release Ivysaur and Wartortle on the other side of the ravine."  
  
Samurai was already two steps ahead of him, however. He had dislodged his pack, relieving it of his own Pokéballs and moving his sheath the rest on his back. "No, Ash."  
  
"What?"  
  
He scowled, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. "Whatever you felt," he rumbled, "Is awakening as we waste time here. There may be a chance for you to stop it." He looked past Ash's shoulder, scowling as Omega waved arrogantly at their conference. "Go. I will attend to this small matter."  
  
  
  
"But."  
  
  
  
"GO!"  
  
Samurai's harsh words ended the argument. He leapt forward, drawing his katana with a vicious battle cry that spurred Ash and Dixie down the side of the ravine. Pikachu bounded after them, leaping from rock to rock. In a moment, the agile mouse was several yards ahead, leading the charge down the impromptu path.  
  
"Now that's just rude, Ash." Omega shook his head. Lowering his targeting goggles, he began to take a bead on the running pair and their Pokémon protector. His thumb was just about to close down on the trigger when an impact on his missile pack knocked him backwards, forcing him to stumble back or lose his footing. "What the…" Tearing the goggles from his eyes, he looked back at his shoulder to spy a quivering blade sticking from the launcher, glinting in the pure Alaskan sun.  
  
The assassin looked up just in time to see Samurai take to the air, set aloft by his screeching Scyther. He hung on to the beast's feet, swinging to and fro in an insane stunt that was typical of Ash's circle of friends. "Prepare to defend yourself, murderer!" Samurai hollered. He let go of Scyther's feet, landing just a few feet from Omega in a defensive crouch. "You have met our match!"  
  
"Not yet." Omega sneered, pulling the sword from his now useless missile rack and tossing it back to the youthful warrior. He unshouldered the pack, letting the heavy machinery clatter to the ground, and began working the kinks out of his muscles. Staring down both Samurai and his fearsome Bug Pokémon didn't phase him in the least. "Not ever."  
  
Those were the last words between them as the fearsome battle began…  
  
* * *  
  
Judge Evans' gavel slammed against the polished wood of his bench, rising above the gentle murmuring of the scattered assembly. Because the trial was taking place so far from Indigo Plateau, only a handful of league officials had arrived on site to observe the trial, joined by a few legal students seeking courtroom exposure, and a few aficionados of law who had found nothing on television to rival the interest of this trial.   
  
"Order in the court, please." Evans spoke quietly. His voice rarely ever rose beyond a normal tone, and he was not a man quick to anger. However, with the unorthodox path the trial was quickly taking, he could literally feel his patience wearing thin. His vision trailed over to the defendant's table, where Brock sat nervously, tugging at his collar while the sweat poured down his forehead. "Mr. Stone, does your friend Mr. Ketchum realize the gravity of the situation?"  
  
Brock stole a quick glance over at Gary's table. The boy had not spoken a word to him since their confrontation out in the hall. Instead, he seemed to have given his total focus over to the case at hand. "Of course, your honor. I'm sure Ash…er, Mr. Ketchum, that is, was simply delayed…somehow." He finished lamely.   
  
Dexter muttered indignantly from Brock's pocket. As he drew the Pokédex from his coat, Dex's muffled words became audible. "Where in the blue blazes of black, evil pudding is she?"  
  
Wondering if Dexter himself understood half of what he said, Brock responded with a low, hoarse whisper. "I don't know, but we're sunk if-"  
  
The double doors of the courtroom suddenly parted with a muted thump, giving cause for the entire throng gathered to turn in unison. Sure enough, a young man dressed in a pressed black suit stood in the doorway, tugging at his tie and straightening the battered red and white league cap that adorned his crown of unruly black hair. "Sorry I'm late," Ash's voice emitted from beneath the down-turned bill, "I, uh, had a little trouble finding the bathroom."  
  
"I'll thank you to be prompt from now on, Mr. Ketchum." Evans snapped sharply. "Take your seat, and we'll continue."  
  
Ash strode down the path, grateful that the people around him were not privy to his silent prayers. He prayed that none of them noticed that he was several inches shorter than when he had first appeared in this room an hour or so ago. He prayed that the black coloring in his newly-cropped hair did not begin to run. He prayed that none of them noticed the tiny device adhered to his throat, altering his voice to a much lower pitch than it naturally was. Most of all, though, he hoped that no one could tell that the Ash Ketchum coming in possessed a…different set of equipment.  
  
"Where have you been?" Brock hissed so that only he, Dexter, and 'Ash' could hear. "We've been sweating bullets waiting for you to come."  
  
"Do not give me crap today, Brock Stone." Misty hissed. She reached up to rub her eyes, cursing the amber contacts that made them itch like crazy. "I'm hot, I'm scared, I'm uncomfortable, and if my breasts were taped any tighter to my body I'd be out a pair of mammary glands." She turned to him, and he felt an unnatural wave of fear. It was strange to see Misty's intensity coming from a face that was vaguely Ash-like. "Shove it."  
  
"Right then." He and Dexter both squeaked.  
  
Gary rose slowly from his seat, clearing his throat once more. It was decided that the prosecution would go first, followed by the defense. "Your honor, the prosecution calls Ashlan T. Ketchum to the stand as its first witness." Everyone seated towards the front of the courtroom could hear Agatha and Lorelei snicker softly. They were pulling out the stops right from the start, bringing out their biggest guns in hopes of blowing away any meager defense Ash had managed to concoct on such short notice.  
  
Swallowing hard, Misty walked to the witness box with a hesitant gait. Her fingers clenched tightly into fists to downplay the tremble she had suddenly developed as she found her way to the ominous seat. As the bailiff swore her in, she couldn't help but marvel at the sound of Ash's voice coming from her lips, thanks to the miracle device Gear had supplied her with. Gear was strapped to her wrist at the moment, operating the tiny rectangular strip attached to her voice box and manipulating the waves of sound she emitted, warping them until their pitch matched that of Ash's own wavelength. That was all the device could do, however; it was up to Misty to convince the court that she was, in fact, the boy wonder himself.  
  
'You have to do this, Misty!' Ash had insisted, 'You're the only one who can!' Before she could even protest, he had dragged her to a salon, where they had chopped her precious hair down to Ash-length. In the meantime, he and Brock had ventured out to retrieve the colored contacts and suit complete with heavy shoulder-pads that she now wore, leaving Dixie to use what little make-up they had on hand to try and alter her delicate features into something more masculine. Fortunately for Ash (depending on how one looked at it), his own face was still very boyish, not too dissimilar from Misty's own elfin jawline and graceful cheekbones.  
  
"Mr. Ketchum," Gary began to pace the length of the floor in front of her, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, "Perhaps you could describe the day you received your trainer's license and starting Pokémon for the court?"  
  
Now was when Ash's choice for a double rang true; Perhaps Samurai, or even Dixie could have filled in equally well for him, at least in the physical sense. However, Misty had been at his side nearly every day for the past six years, and knew his own life as a trainer almost as well as he did. What few details she didn't know about firsthand she had undoubtedly heard from Ash himself, having served as his closest friend and confidant for years.  
  
"Of course." Misty nodded, searching through her memories. The question was an easy one. In many ways, Ash's first day as a trainer was just as important to her life as it was to his. Her entire world had been turned topsy-turvy the day she had fished a lost, inexperienced boy and his tiny, fragile Pikachu out of that little creek. "I had woken up late," she started, speaking slowly so as not to miss any details. "And arrived at Professor Oak's laboratory about an hour after the other three candidates had received their starting Pokémon…"  
  
Gary suddenly stopped, whirling upon her. "Mr. Ketchum," he informed her in a hard tone, "Why don't we skip ahead several hours, to when you carelessly and foolishly destroyed the Pokémon Center in Viridian City?"  
  
"What?" Misty was caught completely off-guard. She hadn't been prepared for such a tough, utterly ridiculous question. "No, that's not how-"  
  
"Were you, or were you not present at the Viridian City Center at the time of its destruction?" Gary demanded. His demeanor had changed completely from their tiff in the hall. It was obvious which one of them was in control of the situation now.  
  
"Y-yes, but-"  
  
"And was it you who ordered the combined electrical assault of several dozen Pikachu?"  
  
"I suppose-"  
  
Gary cut her off, unsatisfied with the wishy-washy response. "Yes or no, Mr. Ketchum?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
Gary stepped forward quickly, slamming his hands on the edges of the witness box. His presence was so forceful that even Misty, fearless and unyielding though she was, was taken aback. His eyes drilled into hers, narrow and icy. "And are you aware," he asked, "That the tremendous electrical discharge you used to combat Team Rocket also set off a chain reaction in the collective entirety of the Center's electrical systems, causing a massive overload and subsequent explosion?"  
  
"That's not how-"  
  
"Answer the question." He demanded. For several seconds, there was a pregnant pause between them as his eyes scanned over her flustered features. He seemed momentarily confused, as if there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. All of a sudden his eyes grew wide with shock, and his mouth hung low in utter disbelief. "M…Mister…" he stammered, having completely lost his train of thought. "Mister Ketchum, will you please…"  
  
Evans seemed puzzled by Gary's sudden loss of force. "Mister Oak, is there a problem?"  
  
Gary looked between Evans and Misty, unsure of what course to take. "Your honor," he said at last, "Would the court be willing to grant myself and Mr. Ketchum a brief restroom break?"  
  
"Mr. Oak," Evans groused, "We just finished a recess of one hour."  
  
"I know…" he whined, "But I really have to go…"  
  
With a deep, soul-searing sigh, Evans caved in. "Very well." He said tartly, "But make it brief."  
  
Gary didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed hold of Misty's sleeve and all but dragged her out of her seat and over the tiny gate leading into the audience's section. There were confused murmurs all around them, but they fell upon Gary's deaf ears to no effect as he parted the double doors of the courtroom.  
  
Misty yanked her arm from Gary's grip, trying her best to act as Ash would in this instance. Unfortunately for her, it would be all too 'Misty' of her to express her displeasure with the Oak boy using extreme physical violence and harsh, unladylike words, so she settled for Ash's usual outrage. "What in blazes are you doing, Oak?" she spat at him, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.  
  
"I could ask the same thing of you," he returned with hands on hips. "Just who do you think you're kidding anyway?"  
  
The cold sliver of fear that rested at the bottom of Misty's stomach quadrupled in size, taking on a life of its own and running with her imagination. "W-what are you talking about?"  
  
A smirk trailed across Gary's cynical features. He swept a lock of brown hair from his eyes as they flashed her way with a mixture of haughty confidence and amusement. "You're forgetting, Misty," he flabbergasted her, "I've known Ash a lot longer than you have. He and I grew up together in the same nowhere town." With all sincerity, he added, "I could spot a fake a lot better than you a mile away."  
  
"I don't know what you-"  
  
His hand snaked forward, snatching from her throat the tiny box that his eagle eyes had zeroed in on only seconds before. Devoid of the device's miracle function, her voice snapped back to its usual saintly soprano pitch.  
  
"-talking about." She finished in her own voice before slapping her hands over her own mouth. Her own eyes grew wide as saucers, with shrinking pupils to match her bone-chilling dread. "H-how did you-" she asked, lowering her hands from her lips.  
  
"Like I said," he tossed the rectangle back to her, "Ash and I grew up together. We didn't always hate each other, you know."  
  
Up until this point, Gear had been using all of her processing power to work her audio magic upon Misty's vocalizations. Now that the function had been terminated, her personality speared its way back to the forefront. "Gary Oak," she scolded him, "You are not a nice young man."  
  
Gary glanced at the talking watch/communicator. With shaking head, he muttered rhetorically, "What is it with Ash and talking machines? Can't he make real friends? Still," he mused, still talking to himself as Misty tried to recollect her focus, "That thing you did with your voice is pretty cool. I'll have to ask Grandpa if he could whip up one of those things for me, too."  
  
Misty had managed to return to her old self, mustering up a bit of the familiar Misty they all knew and loved; a hard, cold figure of steel wrapped in a thin veneer of soft velvet. "So what happens now?" she demanded rather than asked, trying to assert herself as the one in charge. It was a weak bluff, however; they both knew Gary held all the cards in the situation.  
  
Gary seemed to consider this for a moment, frowning with thought. Finally, he asked her, "Where did Ash go? The real Ash, I mean." He added ruefully with a twinkle in his eye. Misty, however, remained tight-lipped, offering no excuses or explanations. Finally he gave in, knowing she would never betray him. "That's fine. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty important for him to try a stunt this stupid. Am I right?"  
  
She countered with her own question. "So, are you going to give us away?"  
  
He considered this as well, seemingly thinking quite hard about it. Finally, he supplied, "You'd better get back in there soon, or they'll think you fell in." With one final smirk, he pushed his way through the door, leaving Misty alone with Gear and the tiny voice modulator.  
  
Gear was the first to break the shocked silence. "I must admit, Misty," she remarked from her place on the water wonder's wrist, "I had not expected that reaction at all."  
  
Misty replaced the modulator on her throat, feeling it vibrate softly against her skin and returning the male inflection into her voice. "You know something? Neither did I."  
  
* * *  
  
Ash, Dixie and Pikachu darted into the mouth of the mine, sprinting for all they were worth. The soft light thrown from a series of weak electric lights lining the long, imposing corridor did little to warm their spirits, but threw enough illumination to show them the way. Moments later they were deep into the cavern, breathing too heavily to go on any further.  
  
"I hope," Dixie huffed, "That Samurai will be okay."  
  
Ash nodded, echoing the sentiment. Samurai was a formidable warrior, but this newcomer, Omega, threw a lot of unknowns into the mix. Taking a moment, he analyzed their surroundings, suddenly wishing that he hadn't left Dexter with Brock and Misty. He could have used the Pokédex's sensors to help him figure out exactly what it was he was looking for. "Pikachu," he looked down at his Pokémon, "Do you-"  
  
A beeping cut him off abruptly, emanating from Dixie's backpack. She traded glances with her boyfriend before reaching around, unzipping the pack and drawing a small, metallic device out. Frowning, she strapped the insistent Itemfinder around her head, adjusting the lens to fit comfortably over her eye. Her eyes wandered around the room for a moment, following the electronic guide's directions. "Ash," she spoke softly with a frog in her throat, "It's here."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's here!" she insisted to him, still searching through the Itemfinder's lens. "The last Hidden Machine, it's here in this cave!" She began to walk about, playing a game of hot and cold that was unseen to Ash and Pikachu.   
  
Ash rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursing lady luck's sick sense of irony. "You have to be kidding me," he muttered. While he was overjoyed that Dixie's collection of her grandfather's work was to be completed, it couldn't possibly have come at a worse time. He felt the darkness stirring within the cave once more, this time coming from below. Ash knew that Dixie wouldn't be swayed from finding the HM, so he said, "Look, why don't you keep looking for it here. I'll go downstairs, and-"  
  
Click.  
  
"You aren't going anywhere, boy."  
  
Ash whirled in place just in time to see a pair of ominous black suits lowering the barrels of a pair of Glock Nine pistols directly in line with their foreheads. Pikachu snarled, rushing forward, but the taller, fair-skinned gunman pulled a second weapon, halting the Pokémon in its tracks. Dixie was frozen with fear, ignoring the incessant beeping of her Itemfinder. Though she was afraid, she somehow kept a defiant tone in her voice. "Shades. Spike." She acknowledged the corporate mercenaries with a curt nod. "It's been a while."  
  
"Ms. Mason." Shades nodded to her with a small smile. Despite the poor lighting in the cavern, he still wore his omnipresent sunglasses that were his namesake. "I take it by the sound of that device," he waved to the Itemfinder with his gun, "That you've detected the fifth technique machine, yes?"  
  
"Y'all will never get 'em." Dixie swore solemnly, glaring at the two with as much hatred as she could muster. "My grandfather will rest in peace, and you two will rot in jail for the rest of your miserable lives."  
  
"A cute sentiment." Shades allowed. He stepped forward, moving in close. Spike followed his lead, keeping his guns trained on Ash and his Pokémon. From the looks of the larger merc, he had every intention of making sure that Dixie and her little friends weren't around to make good on her promise. "Now," Shades continued, "If you would please continue."  
  
Dixie silently resumed her search, stepping forward carefully. Ash tried to move to join her, but Spike gestured menacingly with his gun, shaking his head. With a growl to his captor, Ash watched as Dixie stepped slowly around the collected equipment and piles of useless rock the miners had collected. The emptiness off the mine left a chill down the teens' spines, and did little to calm the jumpy nerves and trigger fingers of the two soldiers for hire.  
  
Fifteen minutes of searching later, Dixie bent down in front of a smooth rock face, running her palm across the gritty surface of the cut stone. She turned away from the wall, looking back with disdain at Shades. "It's here."  
  
"There's nothing there," he countered, leaning over her shoulder. His gun remained pointed at her head, but his eyes scanned the flawless surface of the rock. His free hand brushed against the sediments, coming away with nothing more than a fine coat of dust. His empty glasses turned on her, trying to pierce her bravado angrily. "What is this," he demanded, "Some kind of trick?"  
  
"Shut up and hand me a pickaxe." She informed him shortly, standing up and brushing her hands off. When he didn't move, she walked a few steps to her left, ignoring his gun and retrieving the proper tool from where it leaned against the wall. "Fine." She sneered sweetly, "I'll do it." With a grunt, she swung at the wall. A sharp crack echoed across the empty space as her pickaxe made contact with the wall, chipping away at the rock with each swing. She continued working at it, wiping away the sweat that dripped down her forehead and collected on the Itemfinder's lens.  
  
After a few swings, the pitch of her axe's strike changed pitch. She dropped the pickaxe excitedly, disregarding Spike and Shades entirely as she dug into the soft rock with her fingertips. The sedimentary deposits crumbled away, revealing the edges of a small, snow-white box poking out of her hole. The sharp edges of the rock cut into her fingers, making them slick with blood, but she worked as a woman possessed until the box was out of the wall.  
  
She placed the box in her lap, fumbling eagerly at the latch until it swung open, allowing her access to the box. The interior was lined with soft foam, protecting the single, tiny chip that shone inside like a beacon. The glossy, plastic and metal chip had a tiny 05 printed on its label, along with a small sunburst symbol beneath the numbers. This was the fifth chip…the last chip.  
  
Shades grunted, peering over her shoulder again. "That's it, huh?" he remarked, "I thought it would be bigger."  
  
Spike's face twitched nervously as he stood several yards back, still guarding Ash and Pikachu. "Can we move this along a little?" he grumbled loudly so that his partner could hear him. "I'd like to get out of here and collect our fee sometime this century, Shades."  
  
"Hold on, Mr. Spike." Shades reached down, picking up the chip between two delicate fingers. He examined the chip, turning it over and over, ignoring Dixie's growing rage at his manhandling of her grandfather's last, greatest work. After a moment, he tossed it to her. "We need to test it. Make sure it's the real thing." His gaze meandered back over to Ash and Pikachu. Lifting his gun to point to Ash's only active Pokémon, he added, "On that one."  
  
Dixie wordlessly pulled the HM Accelerator from her backpack, plugging the 05 chip into it and reading the data that poured rapidly over the screen. "This chip teaches the technique 'Flash' to certain Pokémon," she summarized out loud. Scanning the list of acceptable Pokémon, she nodded. "Pikachu's compatible with this one."  
  
"What do you say, buddy?" Ash asked his partner, not really sure whether or not Pikachu would really get a choice as they stared down the barrel of the gun.  
  
"Pika." Pikachu nodded once, stepping forward slowly. His glare met with Spike's for a moment before he scampered up to Dixie. Dixie ran the Accelerator's warm-up procedure, separating it into its component halves. She placed them gently around his head, touching the leads to Pikachu's temples. With a brilliant flash of light the machine came to life, charging Pikachu's neurons, bombarding them with intense information, teaching the Pokémon's cells new tricks, new secrets that the gods themselves had never intended, but that man now demanded of them.  
  
The procedure completed itself with a soft beeping as the light faded. Dixie withdrew the halves from Pikachu's head, sliding them back together and looking down at the Pokémon with bated breath. "Okay, Pikachu," she nodded to the mouse, "Give it a try. Flash."  
  
Pikachu concentrated for a moment, drawing in on its inner energies. Sparks flew from its cheeks for a moment and electricity leapt from its sacs, arcing across its skin in short, random bursts. The humans around it watched, anticipating, waiting for…  
  
Nothing.  
  
"What's the deal?" Spike demanded, waving his guns around wildly. He had half a mind to just shoot the rat now, shoot the kids, and take the four functioning chips. "Where's the flash? Are you screwing with us, little girl?"  
  
"I-I don't know." Dixie pulled the chip from the Accelerator, looking at the various contact points to its internal circuitry. "Everything was fine! It should have worked!" She looked down at Pikachu. "Are you sure you-"  
  
"Pika!" Pikachu insisted, waving its tiny arms. She didn't need to speak Pikachu to know that it had tried its best.  
  
Shades shook his head, sighing. "Well," he lamented, "It's a terrible shame, really. I suppose we can still bring them the four operational chips for most of our fee." He commented to Spike offhandedly.  
  
"Don't forget the bonus fee." Spike grinned, eyeing Ash as if he were a piece of meat. He was already placing his shots mentally into Ash, wondering if it would be more satisfying to put a bullet into Ash's heart, or Ash's head. "That's a pretty good chunk of cash," he grinned sadistically, "Even after we subtract the cost of the bullets."  
  
The innuendo wasn't lost on either one of the teens. Ash's mind raced, thinking of a way for them to somehow make it through this. There was a small metal elevator a little more than thirty feet from where they stood, presumably giving them access to the lower levels of the mine. The dark emanations lurking in the back recesses of Ash's mind still told him that whatever it was he was here to find, it was below them, and Omega was presumably still fighting Samurai outside of the cave, so the only place they could go was down.  
  
"Sounds like you guys have everything planned out," Ash admitted. "Well, almost, anyway."  
  
Shades rolled his eyes, a gesture unseen by any of the others in the mine. "Oh, please," he snickered, striding forward to face Ash directly. Spike's other gun drifted back to Dixie, covering his partner's absence. "Do you honestly think you're going to outwit us somehow with a feeble, pathetic trick?"  
  
Ash nodded glumly. "No," he admitted. Then he brightened, looking past Shade's shoulder, back towards the mine's entrance. "But he might."  
  
Shades and Spike spun in place, their weapons ready with triggers a mere ounce of pressure away from discharging. With steely eyes, they gazed into the dim light filtering in from the outside world, mixing poorly with the soft amber electrical lighting. However, in spite of their lightning reflexes and sharp, deadly eyes, they could spot nothing, save for an ill wind blowing in through the mouth of the cave.  
  
"What're you-" Spike turned, then flew into a rage as he spotted Ash, Dixie and Pikachu making a mad dash for the elevator. He fired wildly, blinded by his own anger and missing badly. Still, his shots did serve to spur on the teens' wild escape. Ash shoved Dixie in, pushing Pikachu with his foot until all three were inside the elevator. Slamming the heavy metal grate closed, he kicked the lever down. The elevator dropped like a stone, vanishing from sight before either mercenary could reach the spot.  
  
"Well," Shades rubbed the bridge of his nose, holstering his weapon with a sigh. "This is certainly an inconvenience-"  
  
Spike screamed incoherently, emptying his clip down into the inky black depths that the teens had disappeared into. His cry grew louder with every shot until at last his gun clicked uselessly, emptied of its rounds. His rage likewise spent, Spike's shoulders fell and his gun clattered to the ground. "I can't believe it." He grabbed his head, tugging at his long, jagged locks. "I can't believe it! He did it again!"  
  
"I know."  
  
"He DID IT AGAIN!" Spike screamed again, punching the stone wall. His enormous knuckles cracked against the solid rock face, actually tearing a small chunk out of place. "I swear," he promised Shades, "Next time, there won't be any tricks. No courtesy crap, no talking. Just BLAM!"  
  
Shades considered the shaft, spying a series of electrical cables trailing down the back of the elevator's pathway and snaking into the darkness. If things went well, they wouldn't have to go in and chase after the kids. They could make the kids come to them. "Spike, old friend," he rubbed his jaw, "I'm beginning to think you may be right."  
  
* * *  
  
"That was too close." Dixie huffed as Ash opened the control panel of the elevator. He reached in, ripping out a handful of wiring and flinching away from the sparks that the machine spat at him in retaliation. "We really should stop running into those guys, huh?" she chuckled breathlessly.  
  
Ash was well beyond the mood for humor, dark or otherwise. He looked around their new surroundings, noticing a set of lights arranged in parallel lines. A glance was all he and Pikachu needed with each other before they were walking in that direction, out into the large, open cavern. The strange place put a trance over him, calling to him as it had before. "This is where we're supposed to be…" he murmured, gazing about at the chamber. "This is the place-"  
  
A low, rumbling growl echoed across the cavern, shaking the very foundation they walked on. Loose rock fell from the ceiling, raining down upon the teens and their Pokémon protector. "What was that?" Dixie quaked, shielding her face from the pebble precipitation. "An Onix?"  
  
"Onix aren't native to this part of the world…" Ash said ominously. Whatever had been setting his soul on ice before was going bonkers at the moment, warning him of some unseen danger. "Come on, let's move!" He pulled a flashlight from his backpack, jogging forward between the lights as Dixie dug for her own light. "This doesn't look like they were digging for coal in here. It almost looks like some kind of archeological dig."  
  
"In a coal mine?" Dixie intoned incredulously as her own flashlight pierced the low lighting of the cavern. Dark shapes in her imagination danced at the shadows' edge, scaring the daylights out of her without ever coming near. "What would they be-"  
  
"That."  
  
She looked in the direction of his pointed finger, spying a chamber about twenty yards in front of them at the end of a long, dark tunnel. It too was lit with electric lamps, beckoning to them from the bright point sitting amidst the darkness. The two teens walked towards the light, with Pikachu trailing after them slowly. Their Pokémon ally shivered as they approached the strange chamber, as if something lurked within, something familiar, yet not.  
  
They reached the mouth of the chamber, stepping in carefully. Ash had Charizard's Pokéball in hand, ready to unleash the fiery dragon on whatever was waiting for them. Luckily, the place seemed empty at a first glance as he entered. He replaced the Pokéball, raising his flashlight and swinging it around the enormous room, examining their surroundings. The entire place held him spellbound. His breath came in short, shallow draws as his eyes wandered about the place. It felt as though he knew this place from somewhere…  
  
Dixie's approach was enough to break him from his trance and scare the bejesus out of him. "Sorry," she placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly after he had jumped out of his skin with a yelp. "What is this place?"  
  
Ash's eyes shifted to one side, falling on the plug that the miners had removed intact for later study. Curious, he moved to stand in front of it. Pikachu followed close, questioning him with a series of "Pika"s. The script on the panel was written in the ancient language of the Pokémopolitans; Ash recognized them from the handful of times he had seen relics of Pokémopolis in his life. The language was an archeologist's nightmare, composed of confusing symbols organized in an even more confusing syntax. On a good day, it could take weeks to translate a single paragraph.  
  
For Ash, it was a matter of seconds. His eyes scanned over the text, taking in the information that the ancients had chosen to bestow upon their readers in mere seconds. Though his ability to read the Pokémopolitese still amazed him, he wasn't surprised; the same occurrence had happened back in the caves of Mount Moon.  
  
"Woe upon thee," Ash muttered aloud the mysterious manuscript as fast as his brain could comprehend them, "To those who breach the prison of the exile." He glanced back into the middle of the cavern, fearing the worst; sure enough, there was a small black pedestal resting comfortably upon a central raised platform. A tiny obsidian orb glinted in the electrical light, mocking him scornfully from afar. It, as well as the pedestal, was covered in a thin layer of oozing red liquid. The smell of blood permeated the room so strongly that it assaulted his senses even at that distance.  
  
"What was that?" Dixie asked. She stood next to Pikachu and joined it in looking up with befuddlement at the intelligible text. "You can read this?"  
  
"Demon of the earth, the exile will bring doom to all who rest in its path." He finished the line, feeling a shiver of fear run up his spine. "Yeah…" Ash answered her question in a low, hoarse voice, "I guess I still can…" He continued:  
  
A thousandfold have fallen  
  
To the might of the exile  
  
Who strikes from blackness itself  
  
But beware his wrath  
  
In the shelter of light  
  
For the human spirit  
  
Can set him free  
  
Of his prison of shadow  
  
"What's "the exile" you were talking about?" she whispered back, suddenly afraid to speak aloud. Even Pikachu had stopped muttering, and was instead glancing around the shadows of the room, as if expecting an attack at any moment. "Ash, what does this all mean?"  
  
Before Ash could answer her, the electric lights that kept the cavern bathed in pale light flickered, faltered, and then failed completely. The cave was plunged into a cloak of pure obsidian, save for the miniscule flashlights that the two teens held. Both beams of light began to shake and shiver as they quaked with fear.  
  
"What happened?" Ash swung his beam around, examining one of the lights.  
  
Dixie didn't have to guess. "Shades and Spike. They must have cut the power to the lights." She looked down at her flashlight in horror as the beam began to fade. "My flashlight!" she cried, "I must have forgotten to change the batteries."  
  
Ash checked his own light. "Mine won't last more than an hour, too." He swallowed, looking around. "They're trying to flush us out. They'll wait until we have to come back up, and then…" he let his voice trail off, unable to finish the thought.  
  
From deep within the oppressive darkness came a low, rolling rumble, as though a boulder was tumbling down the jagged cliffs of the mountain. Dixie couldn't be certain, but her eyes seemed to catch a flash of red out of the corner of her eyes that disappeared before she could locate it. The rumbling came again, deep and slow, the sound of rock grinding on rock.  
  
*Zyyyyyylllllllllllllllllll*  
  
"W…wha…" Dixie shivered, swinging her flashlight back and forth. "What was that?"  
  
Ash did the same, searching through the black void for the source of the rumbling. Pikachu's cheeks threw sparks, trying to push the darkness back to no avail. "It's afraid of the darkness." Ash told her, gripping his flashlight as though it were a weapon. "It can't come at us as long as we have our lights on."  
  
Dixie looked at him, using her rapidly waning light to set her own features aglow. "So what happens when they run out, Ash?" Tears began welling up in her eyes, pouring down her cheeks as she heard another rumbling. "What happens then, Ash? What's going on? What is this thing?"  
  
Pushing his fear deep down into himself, locking it away with a deep sigh, he sat down on the ground. Pikachu leapt into his lap as Dixie sat next to him, intent on protecting both of its friends. "Dixie," he began uncertainly, "It's a long story…"  
  
* * *  
  
"Mr. Ketchum, perhaps you would like to describe the events of last August."   
  
Misty's eyes swished back and forth as Lorelei paced the floor, looking down at Gary's black folder. She had taken over for Gary as prosecutor nearly an hour ago, tiring of watching 'Ash' squirm up on the stand. Misty's aquatic ex-heroine stopped unexpectedly, slapping the folder against her bare thigh below the hem of her short business skirt. Her blue eyes flashed behind her round frames as she checked her folder before adding, "The week of the fourteenth, if you wouldn't mind?"  
  
Leaning forward, Misty clasped her hands together. She knew exactly what week Lorelei was referring to, but she wasn't sure where the question was going to lead. "That was the week of last year's Indigo Games."  
  
"That's right. And could you describe the events of-"  
  
"Objection!" Dexter screamed from the defense table. "This has nothing to do with the case at hand!"  
  
"Sustained." Evans looked down at Lorelei with annoyance. "Prosecutor, please come to the point."  
  
"Very well." Lorelei reached into her magic folder, pulling out several photos and handing them to the judge. Misty received her own copies as well. The pictures showed the scene played over one year ago in Indigo Stadium, in which Ash had defied the council's tradition and had instead given Gary his own Master's badge. "At last year's games, Mr. Ketchum comported himself in a manner most shameful to the league. He destroyed the Master badge specifically designed and produced for the occasion, embarrassing himself and the league as a whole." Lorelei flashed a look of pure disgust in 'Ash's' direction for just a moment before continuing. "Once again, he proved himself a disgrace to the league and an embarrassment to the position of League Champion."  
  
"Once again?" Evans asked, straightening his spectacles as he examined the pictures. "I'll ask you to clarify that point, young lady." Misty breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the judge; he was as hard, cold and unforgiving as polished marble, but at least he was impartial.  
  
"Of course." Though Lorelei was addressing Judge Evans, her eyes never left the witness box for a single instant. "Mr. Ketchum held the position of League Champion for a total of four years." Her hands found their way to the edge of the booth as she leaned over, glaring at Misty with mere inches between them. In that time, he did very little, if anything, for the position."  
  
"Objection!" Dexter shouted from their table. Brock rose to bring their defense closer to the plate, but there was no stopping the Elite trainer.  
  
"He ran about the island, bringing nothing but trouble to whomever or whatever city he came across." Turning away, she began to pace furiously, waving her arms with each new point. "He took no active role in the policy-making process in the League. As a matter of fact, he took no part in the League, save for the yearly competition!"  
  
Misty could feel the bile rising in his throat. Red seeped into her features and climbed in to her vision as she shifted in her seat, leaning forward with a dangerous look on her face. She clamped her hands onto either side of her chair, pinning her fists where they wouldn't do any harm. "I don't think-"  
  
"The truth is, your honor," Lorelei's voice rose above Dexter's objections and Misty's indignation even as Evans' gavel pounded on his bench for order. "Ashlan Ketchum cared nothing for the League, only for the title and the prestige. He cared only for himself, for his own ego."  
  
Hatred blazed in Lorelei's eyes, and through Misty's own blazing anger, she felt an epiphany coming. 'That's why she hates him so much…' Her mind felt detached from her body as she rose to her feet, unable to keep her seat any longer.   
  
"You think Ash needs to take a more active role in the piddly-crap bureaucracy that you get your ya-ya's from, you egotistical little witch?"  
  
The words had escaped Misty's lips before she even thought of them, cutting Lorelei off right at the knees. Indeed, the entire courtroom had been silenced, including Evans, who was growing livid at the audacity of the chaos that the teenagers had brought to his domain. Finally, Lorelei recovered, strutting purposefully towards Misty with a dangerous spark in her eyes. "Referring to yourself in the third person now, Ash?" she spat.  
  
Teeth bared, Misty barely held herself back, holding on to that last thread of self-control. 'You're doing this for Ash,' she reminded herself over and over again. 'Right now, you 'are' Ash.' Out loud, she said, "You couldn't stand some little upstart coming in and showing you up," she snarled with a touch of smugness. "When I got to the League, the Elite Four was all but undefeated. Now, they're whomped on by teenagers every year, and you just can't stand it."  
  
"You waltzed into 'my' league and pretended like none of it mattered, you little brat!" she screamed. The bailiff moved to restrain her, but moved away when he saw the look she gave him. He was smarter than to try and mess with the prima donna during her rant. "You're nothing but a lucky, pint-sized little squirt who was never worth the meat that moves the pathetic waste of fat you call a brain!"  
  
Misty had abandoned all pretenses. She tossed the unfamiliar dark hair out of her unnatural brown eyes, tucking them beneath the cap that wasn't hers. "Don't you dare-"  
  
"You don't deserve to train even one Pokémon, you whelp!" Lorelei countered once more. "I'll see to it that you never harm another Pokémon again if it's the last thing I do-"  
  
That was the last straw for Misty Waterflower. She could handle Lorelei's pride and ego, but when she insulted Ash's abilities and integrity as a trainer… Something within her snapped, breaking the thin barrier that held her titanic temper in check. With an incoherent cry, she leapt over the witness box and tackled Lorelei to the floor. The two women began screeching and clawing at each other, with Lorelei at a severe disadvantage; after all, from her perspective, it was Ash Ketchum attacking her, and Ash Ketchum had never done anything like that!  
  
"ORDER!" Evans bellowed, slamming his gavel onto the scratched wood. He looked furiously to the bailiff, but the large, burly officer had adopted more of an observatory role for fear of losing a limb in the scuffle. By this time Lorelei had adapted to the fact that her witness was trying to kill her. There was clawing, hair-pulling, punching, kicking, and screaming at the top of their lungs. In the ensuing chaos, the vocal remodulator that rested upon Misty's neck was knocked clear across the room, landing in a pitcher of water with a soft fizzling noise.  
  
"You little monster!" Lorelei screamed, ripping her mortal enemy's jacket apart with her bare hands. "I'll tear out your-" Her hand fell upon something soft, round, and unexpected, eliciting a feminine squeak from her supposedly masculine witness. The fight froze in mid-punch as Misty's fist hovered inches from Lorelei's already-bleeding lips. Before the Mistress of Water could stop her, Lorelei had ripped her jacket clean from her shoulders, exposing a figure that was far from manly.  
  
"What in the…" the diva's hands shook, dropping the shreds of cloth. Her eyes probed into Misty's face, searching and examining until a look of recognition crossed her countenance. "Waterflower!" she screeched.  
  
"What is going on here?" Evans boomed. He actually descended from his bench, forcibly separating the two women. The years had been kind to Misty, developing her body into a distinctly feminine sculpt that the salted judge couldn't help but notice. He helped her up, keeping a hand on Misty's shoulder. "Who are you? Where's the defendant?" he demanded.  
  
"Uh," Dexter began lamely, "My client has nothing to say at this time, your honor."  
  
Misty looked to Brock, who could only shrug. There was an understanding look on his chiseled features, but that didn't quell the sinking feeling in her stomach. They hadn't made a contingency plan for if their cover had been blown, which, in retrospect, was a very bad idea. Because Misty had blown it, and blown it big time.  
  
* * *  
  
Omega clutched the small wound he had received from Samurai's stinging blade, wrapping his fingers around his forearm to try and quell the bleeding. Looking down at his defeated foe, he gave the boy a curt nod. "I have to admit," Omega told him, "You made me actually try in a couple spots there."  
  
Samurai was laid out on his back, well beyond hearing the assassin's backhanded compliments. His armor hung in ruins from his bruised, beaten body. Nearby, the pieces of his sword were half-buried in the soft, unforgiving snow, tainted in blood and beyond repair. The warrior himself was drifting between unconsciousness and reality, bleeding from various broken bones and a mild concussion. He had given the battle his all and had come up woefully short. His Pokémon were decked out nearby, knocked out earlier in the fight and completely insensate.  
  
The victor reached down, tearing a piece of the gi Samurai wore beneath his armor off and tying it around his wound before he began making his way down the valley. He could hear the boy gathering himself behind him, standing upon unsteady legs to flee the scene, but Omega paid him no mind. Even if he did summon help, it would come too late to save his friend.  
  
He entered the cave slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the artificial night of the cavern's interior. Reaching into his jumpsuit he pulled a sidearm from its holster, chambering a round with the familiar *ka-chak!* that always brought him a measure of comfort. His steps echoed back and forth across the cavern as he plunged further into its depths. The smell of coal and dust was overpowering, but his years of experience let him push all extraneous details aside. So when two figures tried to get the drop on him by hiding in the shadows, he wasn't fooled.  
  
"Who are you?" a deep male voice boomed from his right, trying to hide itself by using the natural echo the mine produced. "What are you doing here?"  
  
It wasn't the voice of either teen he had pursued into the mine. Omega had familiarized himself with the details of his teammates' previous missions, and recognized the voice immediately. "Mr. Shades, I presume."  
  
"Shut up." Another voice growled, this one off to his left. He heard another *ka-chak* and knew instantly that a Glock was pointed directly at his head. "You've got five seconds to answer the question."  
  
"Omega of Team Rocket." Omega said easily. With lightning reflexes, he pulled another gun, leveling both of them to either side so that he could pick off either mercenary in an instant. With their cover blown, both men stepped from the shadows, moving into the pale light with their guns raised as well.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Shades asked him casually, straightening his sunglasses.  
  
Omega couldn't help but smirk. "Something similar to yourselves, I would imagine." He was irritated at the inconvenience those two represented, and still furious at the outcome of Psi's mission thanks to them. However, another running battle would only delay him further. Besides, he could possibly use them to his advantage.  
  
"You here to collect the new TMs?" Spike snarled. His hand quivered, not out of fear, but anticipation.  
  
"TMs?" Omega shook his head. "I don't have any interest in paltry technology. My only concern is that there's one less teenager breathing by tomorrow."  
  
Shades considered this for a moment. He knew that they couldn't trust the Rocket for an instant, but he also knew that if he started sniffing around, he might ruin the plan, or even damage the technique machines. "Perhaps we could help each other…"  
  
"Interesting proposal." The assassin allowed. "Where are the children?"  
  
Shades' free finger pointed down to the ground. "They're in the level below us. Some sort of ruins, I think. We have them trapped, and we've cut the power. It's only a matter of time before they come back up."  
  
"We can't just sit around waiting." Omega countered coolly. "We should go down there and finish the job."  
  
"Wouldn't recommend it." Spike interjected. "Some kinda creepy animal down there…real spooky. Think it ate a couple of the miners."  
  
Omega thought about this new piece of information. He raised his wrist communicator to his lips, activating the link he held with his three assistants. "Jessie. James. Meowth."  
  
"Guh…wuz?" Meowth's static-filled voice was groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a nap. "Who's there?"  
  
"Prepare the special package for delivery." He ordered, cutting off any further chatter. "Home in on my signal. And for the love of God, be discreet about it."  
  
Shades and Spike merely exchanged looks. "Special package?"  
  
* * *  
  
Ash squatted in the middle of the cavern, rocking back and forth on his heels as he considered the demon ball. He had set his light upright to shine on the ceiling, acting as a makeshift lantern for the unlucky trio. Dixie's light had long since burnt out, and Ash's was growing slightly dimmer with each passing moment. Pikachu considered the lantern, wondering if it could possibly juice up the batteries without frying the light. They had tried it before, though, in similar situations, and the only thing it had done was to make the batteries explode. Apparently, non-rechargeable really meant 'non'-rechargeable.  
  
Dixie paced the floor, never straying far from the light just as Ash had said. Her panic had been suppressed, leaving her with nothing but good old-fashioned fear. "I can't believe it's going to end like this." She muttered over and over again, fingering her sunburst locket nervously. "Munched by some stupid monster in the middle of nowhere…"  
  
"We'll make it out somehow." Ash assured her, believing his words about as much as she did. He leaned back, falling on his butt and spreading his aching legs. His fingers found a few loose rocks, which he tossed into the inky blackness out of boredom. The truth was, he had no idea how they were going to get out of this. Whatever this "exile" that the Pokémopolitans had banished to the mountains of Alaska was, it was simply biding its time. The light was pale and pathetic, but for some reason still caused the beast discomfort; he had heard it snarl when he had swung the beam about the place, hunting for their hunter. Every now and then they could hear it, rumbling somewhere beyond the edge of the light.  
  
Dixie whirled on him, her pent-up frustration and fear suddenly pouring out in one violent burst. "Shut up!" she screeched. "I'm not talking to you!"  
  
Even Pikachu, their own little warrior, was taken aback by the ferocity of her words. Ash understood the outburst, even if he did feel a little miffed at being her scapegoat. "Okay." He allowed slowly. "Sorry."  
  
But it didn't stop there; Dixie was on a roll. Throwing her hands up, she gestured to the enormous tablet by the useless exit to the cave. "Ash, why didn't you tell me any of this? Why didn't you tell me about this ridiculous demon business?"  
  
Ash hesitated; he had told her about encountering Missingno in the caves of Mount Moon, but had kept silent about his visions of the legendary Pokégoddess. Deciding that the partial truth made the best answer, he said, "Would you have believed me?"  
  
The statement cut her off at the knees, and she knew it. "I would now." She agreed bitterly, plopping down next to him. With nothing better to do in the scant time they had left, she pulled out the HM Accelerator and extracted the last Hidden Machine from its port. "Hhhnnn," she sighed, examining the chip. Unable to do anything about its uselessness, she tossed it aside.  
  
Ash kept his voice neutral, trying not to breed too much false hope. "Any chance of fixing it?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head. "I wouldn't know where to begin. It might have been damaged when it was placed into the wall, or it could just be a design flaw. Prototypes are always tough to deal with." Her fingers found their way back to the sunburst locket around her neck. With a sad smile, she recalled the farewell message that the old scientist had left her before his untimely murder. "It's funny…" she commented offhandedly, "When Grampa gave this locket to me, he told me it was a light to guide my way. Now, here in the dark, a light's exactly what I need." She undid the clasp, pulling it from her throat and considering it in the palm of her hand. "Only now it's useless to me." She lamented wistfully.  
  
The rusted gears in Ash's mind began inadvertently whirring and clicking. He thought back to all the times when Professor Oak had spoken in riddles to him, letting them mull at the back of the boy's mind until he figured them out just in time to save his own butt or someone else's. The old man never spoke plainly, but instead planted the idea and let it develop on its own for Ash to discover when the time was right. Looking down at the locket, Ash asked, "That locket…when did you say your grandfather gave it to you?"  
  
"Let me think." Dixie scratched her noggin. "It was right after he finished the prototypes. He was just heading out to make sure they were safe, 'cause he knew Americorp was after them. It was right before he…"  
  
"Dixie," Ash had to restrain himself from simply snatching the locket away. "Can I see it?" She nodded, handing it over to his eager hands. He immediately ran his fingernail around the circumference of the accessory, searching for something-anything-that he could think of. Pikachu and Dixie watched on with silent confusion until at last Ash cried out in triumph. He grabbed a small, pointy pebble and began digging into the edge of the locket, scratching its delicate surface as he did so.  
  
"Hey!" Dixie cried out until the locket snapped in two, swinging open on a hidden hinge. Ash could barely contain his excitement as he revealed a small black dot within the hidden compartment of the locket, a tiny, secret microchip of mystery. Wondering if she dared hope it, Dixie grabbed at the discarded HM, pulling away the circuitry casing to peer at the myriad of technology within. Sure enough, there was a tiny flat empty space, sized just right for the circular microchip. She looked up at Ash, dumbfounded and astonished. "H-how'd you know?"  
  
"These scientist types," Ash shrugged with a grin, "They always like to leave a card up their sleeves. Your grandfather probably thought it would be safer with you, especially if you didn't even know you had it."  
  
Dixie shook the tiny microchip from the locket with shaking hands, dropping it into the palm of her hand. She could barely contain her excitement as she plugged the tiny chip into its place, comforted by the tiny click as it snapped into its slot. Closing the HM's case, she placed it back into the Accelerator, flicking the machine's power switch with her thumb. "Okay…we just need to test it, now."  
  
"Pi!" Pikachu bounded up, standing in front of her expectantly. Dixie glanced over at Ash, who merely nodded. Taking a deep breath, she separated its component halves and placed it on either side of Pikachu's tiny head. The soft light of Ash's waning flashlight was drown out by the white radiance released by the Accelerator as Pikachu's mind was bombarded by countless gigabytes of information. The surge of power caused the tiny mouse's eyes to glow white. Pikachu strained at first, clenching its tiny fists as if it were fighting the new ability.   
  
In the end, though, the fight proved too much, and Pikachu accepted the gift. The Accelerator's process wound down and its light faded, leaving them in the relative blackness of the flashlight. Pikachu's tiny black eyes blinked slowly as it shook itself out of its stupor.  
  
Ash watched with anticipation as Dixie folded the Accelerator back together and placed it in her pack. "Did it work?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"Let's find out." She took another deep breath, looking down at the Electric type. "Okay Pikachu," she nodded to him, "Flash."  
  
Pikachu's cheeks began to glow with home-brewed thunder. The power began spreading all across its body, arcing across its bristling fur in focused packets of lightning. The energy soaked into Pikachu's fur like water into a sponge and disappeared all at once. For a split second they were left in total darkness.  
  
A soft golden light began eating away at the dark, radiating from Pikachu's charged fur and bathing Ash and Dixie in an amber glow. Pikachu rose upon its hind legs, its eyes glowing white with new power as the brightness increased. The light spread to every nook and cranny as though it had a life and mind of its own. The cavern became completely visible as quickly as the eye could follow.  
  
Ash looked down at his Pikachu, who had become a being of pure light. Though the cavernous chamber was as bright as daylight, he could still look upon the Pokémon without undue discomfort. "Pikachu?" The tiny, living light bulb gave him a claws-up, though he was hard-pressed to see it.  
  
"This is incredible…" Dixie reached out hesitantly, stroking Pikachu's fur. "There's no temperature increase or anything. This is incredible!" She kept repeating it, jumping up and down. A sudden rumbling shook the cavern, knocking stalactites from the ceiling. One nearly split Ash from skull to toes, scaring the bejesus out of him and tearing his backpack apart. "What's going on?" Dixie stuttered against the ground's quaking.  
  
An echoing snarl was her answer as the living earthquake traveled through the ceiling. Ash looked up, catching a glimpse of flashing red eyes before they disappeared into the rock. "It's the monster!" Ash shouted, shielding his head. "C'mon, we have to get out of here!" He began running back towards the exit.  
  
"What about Spike and Shades?" Dixie yelled, joining Pikachu's chase of its trainer. "We can't just-"  
  
Another rumbling knocked several tons of rock onto the floor behind them, spurring on their escape. "Trust me," Ash yelled back, "Anything they do to us is ten times better than staying here!"  
  
* * *  
  
Misty kicked off the large, uncomfortable loafers, cooling her heels in the cell that she and Brock had been placed in. It seemed that perjury and fraud were serious crimes in any legal system, and the courthouse had more than adequate facilities for taking care of those guilty of such crimes. She loosened the tatters of Ash's suit, leaning back against the cold cement that comprised three-fourths of their cell as she sat atop one of the two wooden planks that served as bunks.  
  
"I wonder how Ash is doing…" Brock's ceaseless pacing was beginning to drive her nuts, but he didn't seem to notice. He had shucked his own suit coat, letting it lay uselessly on his bunk as he walked the length of their cell next to the bars. "Hope he's all right."  
  
Part of Misty agreed, but another, more selfish part hoped that he was having problems much worse than their own. That way, when he came back and found out that she had blown their little scheme, he wouldn't be as angry. 'Why am I worried about what he thinks, anyway?' she thought to herself. 'He's the one that came up with this stupid plan!' But like so many other times, Misty's head and heart just couldn't come to an agreement.  
  
The sound of a door halted Brock in his tracks, echoing from down the long row of empty cells. Footsteps followed as the door closed, coming closer, unseen but not unheard. He exchanged a curious glance with Misty, but she merely shrugged, conveying her own confusion. After Evans had read them the riot act and thrown the book at them, she didn't think they were going to let the two of them out until their bones had been picked clean by rats in the distant future. However, the new arrival brought Brock and Misty little comfort…  
  
"Oak!" Misty spat, leaping from her seat and slamming against the segmented door in a fit of rage. Gary, standing only thanks to the safety of the cell, was wearing his favorite blue long-sleeve with his lucky pendant and blue jeans, Pokéballs strapped to his waist and hands on his hips. The metal rang out against her palms as she pressed her snarling face against the space in the bars. "You rotten little-"  
  
He bent down, examining the lock. "Just shut up for a few seconds and let me think, will you?" he retorted, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pair of small metal slivers. He jammed them into the archaic lock, jiggling them around with a series of clicks. "Ash needs help, and I can't do this on my own."  
  
"What?" It was Brock's turn to move forward, forgetting his disgust momentarily. "You heard from Ash?"  
  
"No," Gary grunted, concentrating on the job at hand, "That dippy swordsman of yours called about fifteen minutes ago. I had to make a side trip to grab your gear and Pokémon. They're waiting outside, along with the Pokégear and that obnoxious Pokédex of yours. They're waiting outside in my pack…ah!" he cried out with success, pulling the picks back and swinging the door open. "C'mon, there isn't much time."  
  
"What's the-" Brock stepped forward, ready to go out the door to freedom when Misty stopped him with an outstretched arm. "Huh?"  
  
"We aren't going anywhere until I get some answers!" Misty declared. She grabbed the cell door and slammed it shut with a clang of defiance. "Why are you helping us?"  
  
"What are you, crazy?" Gary demanded. He grabbed the door and swung it open again, jabbing a finger for them to get out. "Let's go! Samurai said something about-"  
  
"No!" Misty reached out, snagging the bars and tugging it closed again. "Why are you helping us? What's in this for you?"  
  
"I think Gary's right, you are crazy!" Brock tried to push the door open, but Misty's rage-fueled strength proved too much to overcome. "Look, Ash is in trouble, we're already legal toast, Gary's got the door open, so let's go already!" He tugged at his jagged hair, grinding his teeth.  
  
Misty's eyes flashed as she growled in the Indigo Champion's direction. "You," she snarled, "Are a liar, you are a cheat, you're a jerk, and I don't trust you. Why. Are. You. Helping. Us."  
  
He trembled with impotent rage, but Misty held her defiance (and the door) firmly in place. Eventually, she won out, and his shoulders sagged. "Look," he mumbled, "I owe him."  
  
"You what?" she scoffed. "Since when have you-"  
  
"Shut up!" He growled fiercely enough to cut her off. "Do you have any idea what kind of hell I've been through? The one thing I've accomplished in my life, and the only reason I got it was because I double-crossed someone I used to call a friend. How do you think that makes me feel?"  
  
"I have to admit," Brock sided with Misty, his arms folded across his broad chest, "You didn't seem so broken up about it after the Games…"  
  
"It isn't the kind of thing you realize right away, you know?" Gary let go of the bars, striding over to the other side of the hall and leaning against the door of the opposite cell. His back slid against cold metal as he found his way to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest. "Every day since that match, I've woken up with a bitter taste in my mouth…And when Bruno came forward…" He sighed, burying his face in shame. "Lance was furious…he wanted to kick me out right there and then…He wanted…But Agatha…Lorelei…they saw this as their chance. If they got me in on this case…"  
  
"Bruno…" Misty was confused. Then, all at once, it hit her; Ash had tossed away a disc illuminating Gary's "Special Kinesis" at the changeover ceremony. Bruno must have picked it up, and… "Wait, why didn't Lance-"  
  
"Indigo isn't as squeaky clean as you might believe, you know." Gary looked up, his eyes suddenly cold and empty. "You Ketchum Kids didn't get a full taste of it 'cause you were running around like Farfetch'd with your heads cut off…" He sighed. "Lance disapproved, but he didn't have much choice when they threatened him with his own skeletons. I didn't have a choice." He looked at them pleadingly. "I don't care if you hate me or not, but I want you to understand…I didn't have…"  
  
Misty kicked the door open, striding forth and grabbing Gary by the collar. She hauled him up with a grunt, slamming him up against the bars. "Double-cross us," she warned him, "And I promise you won't have enough time to regret it."  
  
Brock pulled her off of him, separating them. "Save it. What's the situation?" he asked Gary.  
  
The direct question seemed to snap Gary out of his revere. "He said something about Team Rocket," the would-be champ informed them, leading the way down the hall. "Something about a man named Omega." Brock and Misty exchanged glances before breaking into a run, passing Gary with ease. "Hey, wait a minute!" he shouted.  
  
"Can't." Misty panted, pushing herself harder. "Every second is gonna count now." She prayed that they weren't too late to help him. "If we don't hurry," she added morbidly, "There won't be anything left…"  
  
* * *  
  
Ash led the way up the cable of the broken-down elevator, hauling himself up with a grunt at each tug as he rose higher, slowly but surely. It was a much longer climb up than he remembered going down, and the added weight of Pikachu and his pack didn't help his spirits or his progress.  
  
Because he was ahead of Dixie by a handful of meters, he was the first to be greeted by a pair of poised pistols held at his head. Grudgingly, he swung himself over to the edge of the abyss, landing awkwardly and nearly losing his balance. Luckily for him (as well as the young girl below him), Spike reached out with his free hand, hauling him back from the edge and tossing him and his Pokémon roughly onto the ground. Dixie quickly followed, rolling gracelessly onto the dirt beside him.  
  
"Now," Shades said through gritted teeth, "As I was saying earlier-"  
  
"Wait a minute." Spike cut him off with a raised hand. He tossed a conspiratorial look around the cavern. "Why ain't that Team Rocket guy back yet?"  
  
Shades shrugged, unable to answer and not particularly caring. "Does it matter?"  
  
"Suppose not." Spike admitted begrudgingly. His gun clacked once more as he pointed it right at Dixie's head, smiling for the first time in nearly an hour. "Now why don't you start coughing up those little machines, huh?" He sneered. "Or maybe we'll just toss you back into that hole instead."  
  
Dixie and Ash exchanged glances. She reached into her pack, silent as a tomb and wearing an unreadable expression as she drew out five tiny chips. The plastic and metal data chips clattered against one another in her palm as she held them out. "Here they are," she snarled with tears in her eyes, "The Hidden Machines. Now let us go."  
  
"Just a moment." Shades scooped the devices up, pocketing them with his off hand while keeping his gun trained on the teens. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."  
  
"See," Spike illuminated, "You little snots are potential witnesses…" The gleam in his eye told them everything else they needed to know as his gun strayed up and down their bodies, anxious to put a bullet into both of them, unsure of where to start. He trembled with excitement at the mere thought of doing away with them. "No hard feelings," he lied.  
  
"Just business." Shades prepared his own gun, picking his target just as Spike was doing.  
  
Ash's sharp eyes caught a slight movement in the shadows above them, a dark crimson flash just behind the mercenaries. Unbeknownst to the two hired guns, the ceiling above them had begun to shift and change, morphing into a dusty brown shape. The sediments pooled together as if made of water, defying all laws of physics and all rationality as a large, inhuman arm began to grow from the stone above them. A hand emerged first, with three massive fingers off-set with a large, blocky thumb. The hand stretched from the ceiling downward upon a thick stalk, reaching down silently toward the mercenaries.  
  
"Look out behind you!" Ash screamed, his eyes wide with shock and gut cold with fear. Dixie had noticed the hand as well, and was shrieking incoherently, pointing behind Spike and Shades. Pikachu could only stand by, frozen with terror as the unbelievable hand loomed over them.  
  
"Oh please," Spike snorted, rolling his eyes. "Like we're going to fall for that one a-" he was cut off as the hand shot down, snagging him about the waist and hauling him upward. He let out a yell, looking upward with gun already firing in the direction of his would-be attacker. However, there was only solid stone to be found. "Wha-AAAAAAAA!" he screamed as the hand tightened, crushing his ribs and rupturing the organs beneath.  
  
"Spike!" Shades was already firing into the shadowy arm to no avail, trying to free his partner without hitting him with a stray shot. "Spike, NO!"  
  
The life draining from him, Spike looked up in a daze. The ceiling had begun to shift again, this time to the side of the arm. A pair of crimson points emerged, blinking into angular eyes as the rock bulged and grew outward. The growth split open into a gaping maw before the dying man's eyes as the red points sunk inward, forming a crude, ugly face. Spike was permitted one last, horrified scream before the hand shoved him into the open mouth, devouring him with a sickening crunch and a spray of blood. As the red splattered to the floor, the face and hand retracted into the rock, leaving no mark of their passage.  
  
"Spike…" Shades whispered. He dropped to his knees, his gun clattering to the ground. "S…Spike…"  
  
"Pikachu, Thunderbolt!" Ash commanded quickly, coming to his senses faster than the others. Pikachu shook off its horror and launched a fearsome bolt of lightning at the remaining merc, lighting him up like a Christmas tree. The teens bounded forward as Shades slumped over, snagging his gun and tossing it into the shaft below.  
  
Dixie, still very green about the gills, searched hopefully through Shades' pockets before pulling her HMs. She gave them the once over, relieved that they were still intact. "They must be insulated against electrical shock." She remarked, trying to forget the gruesome display only moments ago."  
  
"Forget it." Ash shot, eyeing the ceiling warily. "We have to get out of here, and fast-"  
  
"Prepare for trouble…"  
  
"And make it double…"  
  
The pair of familiar voices echoed hauntingly through the cavern, originating from sources unknown and halting Ash and Pikachu in their tracks so quickly that Dixie's face plowed into Ash's shoulder blades. "Oh, crap." He groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Not now…"  
  
"To protect the world from devastation..." The feminine voice of the pair cut in once more as the floor of the mine began to fill with a layer of crimson smoke. It quickly rose, like water running into a pool, until it filled the teens' vision and left everything obscured in a red haze.  
  
"To unite all peoples within our nation..."  
  
"To denounce the evils of truth and love…"  
  
"To extend our reach to the stars above…"  
  
Ash instinctively drew a pair of Pokéballs from his belt. His right thumb found its way to the activation trigger, holding it down until it clicked. He hurled the ball high into the air, calling his avian titan Pidgeot into the fold. "Pidgeot, Gust away this stupid smoke!"  
  
As Pidgeot trilled and began to cook up its own whirlwind, the unseen duo finished their rhyme. "Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!"  
  
Pidgeot's wings blasted the wind from the mine, revealing Jessie and James caught in mid-strut next to a small smoke-billowing cube of machinery. Meowth leapt from the controls of the smoke generator, finishing the motto with "Meowth, dat's right!"  
  
"I have a Charizard right here with your name on it, Team Rocket!" Ash called out venomously as Pidgeot was recalled into its ball. He was in no mood to play games with those two, and he wanted the point to get across clearly. "And unless you two have been bulking up your team lately, I know you don't have anything that can take him."  
  
"Oh, but we do, twerp!" Jessie assured him with a haughty flip of her hair.  
  
James snickered, stepping aside as if drawing back a curtain. "Presenting, for the first time anywhere…"  
  
"The magnificent…" Jessie added, mimicking James…  
  
"ROBO-ROCKET OMEGA!"  
  
For a moment, there was complete silence, save for the whistling of the winds as they blew through the entrance of the mine. The stillness was soon split by the thunderous metallic slam of metal on rock. It came again before their ears' ringing ceased from the first explosion, and again, and again, each time drawing closer and setting off greater vibrations.  
  
The cavernous entrance, a circlet of pure white light in the dimness of the mine, became darkened with an enormous silhouette. The shape was that of a man, if a man were forty feet tall and composed of bulletproof alloys. The shape drew closer and became bathed in the dim light of the electric lamps, revealing the pristine white alloy with red trim, broad shoulders, bristling with menace and sporting a pair of massive cannons on each wrist.  
  
"Miss me, Ketchum?" Omega's voice possessed a synthesized twang as the red visor of the mech loomed down to face Ash. "Oh, I found a friend of yours that was dying to see you…"  
  
The mech's metal fist uncurled, revealing a brutally battered lump of flesh and armor scraps. Ash rushed to Samurai's aid as the mech allowed the boy to roll to the floor, catching the warrior in his arms and dropping to his knees.  
  
"Oh man," Ash swore, lowering Samurai to the ground. "Samurai," he cupped the boy's face, shaking him gently. "Samurai, can you hear me?" Though his chest rose and fell steadily, his breathing was still shallow, his pulse weak and erratic. Ash glared up at Omega, trying to push aside his anger. "Omega, listen to me: something bad is in this cavern. Something really bad. We have to get out of here, now! All of us!"  
  
Omega peered down at the children through the suit's red visor, feeling a small smile grow on his lips. Double-checking to make sure his mech was transmitting its telemetry to Team Rocket Headquarters, he armed the twin wrist-mounted plasma cannons, feeling the feedback work its way through the neural connectors hooked up to his body. "Nice try, boy," he called through the external speakers, "But nothing will save you now. No speeches, no tricks, no gloating…" The cannon shifted, zeroing in on Ash and his little friends. He and Pikachu were positioned to take the brunt of the blast, with Samurai and Dixie easily in range to be secondary casualties. "Just this."  
  
The entire cave shifted, quaking violently just as his finger descended onto the trigger button. As a result, the shot went wild, striking the wall behind his intended targets with an enormous bolt of glowing green power. His mech's gyros were unable to handle the sudden shift, and the metallic goliath fell onto its armored hindquarters with a deafening clang. No one was left standing during the massive quake; even Pikachu, with its natural agility and balance, was toppled as the very ground it stood upon.  
  
"What in the name of…" Omega swore, sweeping his suit's scanners across the chamber. There were strange anomalies, seismic and electromagnetic, emanating from almost the exact spot his shot had struck. It was as if the rock were alive, shifting and molding like sentient gelatin. Limbs grew from the rock, followed quickly by a thick, massive torso. The outgrowth separated from the cavern wall, gaining detail by the second. An anatomy of muscles formed; trapezoidal pectorals, rough, cubic biceps, gridline abdominals all rose from the stone. A thick bulge grew from the neck, splitting into a wide, gaping maw as it shifted into a rectangular, serpentine head. The gleaming red eyes that had haunted Ash since entering the mine blinked into existence, growing sharp and angular with frightening rage.  
  
"Ecks…" the monster growled, stretching its newly formed fingers, which were little more than stubby blocks on the ends of its massive hands. The creature easily dwarfed the Omega Red mech by a good ten feet, and was twice as wide. "Ecks-hiiiiiiilllleee…"  
  
"Oh, sweet Goddess…" Ash breathed, gathering Samurai into his arms.  
  
"Ex-hillle…"  
  
"A…A-a-a-ash-sh-sh-sh…" Dixie stuttered. She was rooted to the spot, clutching her beloved pendent as he eyes traveled up the hulking leviathan. Though her mouth opened and closed, her voice was gone, little more than a squeak and lost in the monster's rolling rumble. The monster seemed disoriented, as if unsure of its new body. Faint traces of smoke and dust escaped from its grinding joints in thin, ghostly wisps as it took its first steps, quaking the ground with each footfall.  
  
Ash whistled for Pikachu, heaving Samurai off of the ground. "Dixie." He looked at her, but her eyes were glued to the monster. "Dixie!" His voice, filled with greater urgency this time, finally cut through her haze. She looked at him, and yet not at him, with dull, senseless eyes. He prayed that she still had enough of her senses to follow him, for he wasn't sure if he could save them all otherwise. "We have to run. Dixie, run! Run!" His shoulder dug into hers as he nudged her along, practically shoving her away from the scene of the monstrous birth and towards the bright salvation beyond through the mine's exit.  
  
Jessie had found a nice, quiet spot with James and Meowth on the sidelines from which they could witness the twerp's gruesome death. Now, however, it looked as though it would be their final resting place as the beast's scarlet scowl swung 'round to fall on them.  
  
"Mmmmmm." The monster grumbled eagerly, taking a few gigantic strides in their direction. "Squishys…"  
  
"N-not da brightest bulb, is h-he?" Meowth's teeth chattered as he backed up flat against the wall. James could only scream, and he did so; long, loudly, and at an octave far too high for a male to normally achieve. "So, I guess dis is how it ends…funny," Meowth sobbed as he clung to James' leg in terror, "I never would'a guessed it would end like dis…"  
  
Jessie too clung to James, squeezing her eyes shut. "I guess Team Rocket won't be blasting off again…" she whispered. Uncharacteristic tears ran down her cheeks as she pressed her face to his, taking solace in her only true friend's arms. "Goodbye, James."  
  
"Goodbye, Jessie," he murmured in her ear, holding her tightly.  
  
The monster completely ignored Omega's robot, zeroing in on the soft flesh of the Rocket trio. Just as it reached them, it stopped; the beast's hand frozen in mid-snatch, it began to sniff the air. Its head swiveled unnaturally, peering at another trio as they ran for the exit. The monster murmured a single word, practically pounding it into the three stooges with rotting breath. Then, forgetting its current quarry, it turned away and began lumbering towards the exit.  
  
Omega finally got his mecha to stabilize once more, guiding it back onto its feet. He first checked up on his three assistants, watching in amazement as the rock creature chased after the retreating teenagers. "Are you three all right?" he asked. "What was it? What did it say?"  
  
"A…A…" Jessie tried to form coherent words, finding it difficult after such a close brush with death. "It...It s-said…"  
  
"A-ashura." James finished for her, still clinging tightly. Under normal circumstances, she may have objected, but her own grip was still strong and unbreakable as well. "I-it said 'Ashura', and then walked away."  
  
Omega seemed taken aback. Ashura? The names were similar, but that wasn't Ketchum's name. So why was the beast taking such an interest in the boy? "Who in blazes is Ashura?"  
  
* * *  
  
Misty squinted as they flew into the setting sun, suspended high above the frosty peaks of Alaska in a helicopter that she, Brock and Gary had 'borrowed' from Snowfort's tiny airport. With Gary at the helm, they had followed the route that Samurai had given to him via phone, covering ground far faster than they could have on foot.  
  
"Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?" Brock clung to the edges of his seat as the 'copter lurched to one side, zipping a mere hundred feet above the ground.  
  
Gary shrugged. "I've been working towards my pilot's license for a while now. You know, something to do in my spare time."  
  
"I really hope you've had a lot of spare time, then." Brock prayed silently, biting his lower lip as his stomach went through another flip-flop.  
  
Misty thoughts, by contrast, were far from their own safety. She scanned the ground below, searching for any clue, any sign of Ash or the others. It wasn't easy in the waning daylight; she doubted they would have more than another twenty minutes before the sun set completely. It was rather ironic, actually; during this time of year in Alaska, the sun would only be down for a few hours. Of all the times for a daring rescue…  
  
"We're closing in on the coordinates," Gary informed her, pulling her from her own thoughts. She could see the ravine that the Indigo Champion had described to them up ahead, though no sign of their friends was forthcoming. Her face pressed up against the glass as they flew over. Even from this height, she spied two tiny, dark shapes darting out of some kind of opening in the rock, followed quickly by an even tinier yellow blur.  
  
"There they are! Land! Land!" she cried, jabbing her finger. She was about ready to yank the controls from the Oak boy and crash them herself, but managed to hold her patience as he put them into a terrifying dive that nearly gave Brock a heart attack. Misty had dislodged her door before the runners ever touched down, halfway out of the helicopter as Gary shut the rotors off and killed the engine.  
  
"Ash!" Her new black hair streamed out behind her as she ran out to meet him. He was carrying someone, but she couldn't tell who, and she didn't care all that much. All that mattered was that he was all right. "Ash, you're okay!"  
  
"BACK IN THE CHOPPER!" he screamed, sprinting as fast as he could with his burden. "Start the motor. Go! GO!"  
  
Her feet skidded on the rough, loose rock as she tried to stop, shocked at the ferocity of his words. "Ash, what is-"  
  
"ASHURA!" an inhuman roar erupted from the mouth of the mine, chilling her to the bone and stopping her words in-throat. Her eyes grew wide with fear as the monstrous golem sprung out, moving impossibly fast for a creature of its size. It bore down on them, making the earth tremble with every tread it took. "Exile smash Ashura!" it cried, slurring its speech through stony lips.  
  
Ash swore, sliding to a halt not far from Misty. He handed Samurai off to Dixie, ripping a Pokéball from his belt and tossing it back at the beast. "Wartortle, I choose you!"  
  
Wartortle, Ash's strongest Water type, came screaming into existence with a flash and a pop. The tiny turtle titan was instantly on the alert, but cowed as it saw the massive monster of living rock heading straight towards them. "War…W-wartortle!?" it shivered, backing up several steps.  
  
"Wartortle, we need you to buy us a few seconds!" Ash swallowed, hoping that his hunch was right. "Start off with a Bubblebeam, but don't get too close to it."  
  
Ash closed the gap between himself and Misty as his Pokémon obeyed with a blast of silvery bubbles. "Misty," he looked to her, trying to shake her from her stupor. A small part of him wondered how and why she was here, but it wasn't important at the moment. "Misty, I need my Pokédex…and Wartortle could use some back-up."  
  
"Wh…what is that thing?" she murmured.  
  
"Misty, it's made of rock!" Ash grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're always telling me what a master of Water you are! I need your help. Misty!"  
  
"R…right…" she shook off the trance that had settled over her brain, pulling several Pokéballs from her bag. "Staryu, Starmie, Seadra…I choose you!" Her hand swept out, tossing a trio of balls at once into the fold. They disgorged their combatants into the fray, and with a quick command from their trainer, began aiding Wartortle in the hopeless battle. The monster, whatever it was, apparently did not appreciate the impromptu bath. It writhed in agony, trying to fend off the multiple streams of water with enormous hands, swiping too slowly at the smaller, faster opponents.  
  
"Where's Dexter?" Ash demanded, keeping one eye on the battle.  
  
Brock pulled the red device from his pocket, tossing it to his friend. "Right here, buddy." He held up his wrist, showing Ash that he had the Pokégear as well, should they need it.  
  
Ash gave him a quick nod as he booted Dexter up. The 'Dex's sensors came on-line in a flash, scanning their surroundings and becoming instantly aware of the rocky titan as Ash pointed him in its direction. "Good morning, every-YOW! What the jiggity is that?"  
  
"Dexter," Ash said through gritted teeth, hoping that his flaky device could focus for a moment, "You remember the information that you downloaded back at Mount Moon last year?"  
  
"Sure, but-"  
  
"Access it. Now. I need to know what we're facing, and fast!"  
  
Had Dexter the shoulders to do so, he would have shrugged. "I can try, but remember," he informed his user, "The information is incomplete…I may not have-"  
  
"Dexter!"  
  
"Right, right." Dexter hummed, scanning through the sketchy translations of Professor Oak's ancient Pokémopolitan texts. "Okay, I'm getting something…compiling…annnnnnnnnd…there!" He beeped, switching over to his monotone info-retrieval mode: "Exile, the Forbidden Demon of Earth."  
  
"So," Dixie breathed, peering over Ash's shoulder as the others gathered about him to watch, "His name 'is' Exile…"  
  
Dexter continued, working with what little information he had. "Exile, like the other Dark Ones, gains power through the absorption of raw human spirit. Upon collecting enough power, the creature is able to stand direct sunlight, and move about freely during the day."  
  
"Okay," Ash muttered, "So Spike gave him enough SPF to come out and play…How do we beat him?"  
  
"Actually," Dexter lamented with an electronic cough, "That's all I've got…"  
  
Exile's fearsome roar stole Dexter's thunder as it caught hold of Seadra, grasping it in its massive hand. The aquatic dragon screeched in terror as the forbidden demon raised it to its massive lips, ready to bite the head from the Water type. The other Pokémon tried to desperately to save their comrade, but their blasts of water went unnoticed.  
  
"Seadra, NO!" Misty screamed, sprinting forward. Ash, Brock, Dixie and Gary weren't far behind, each reaching for a Pokémon to aid in the fight and save the captive meal.  
  
"Ivysaur!"  
  
"Onix, go!"  
  
"Go, Croconaw!"  
  
"I choose you, Poliwrath!"  
  
The new additions leapt into the fray the instant their molecules re-stabilized, blasting at the golem with streams of water, flurries of razor leaves or good-old-fashioned rocks. The combined blasts were enough to dislodge Seadra from Exile's grasp. Onix, taking the forefront of the charge, wrapped itself around Exile's midsection, catching one arm and trapping it in the hold as it put the squeeze on the demon.  
  
Gary wiped beads of terror sweat from his brow, shouting intermittent orders to his combatant. "This isn't going to work for long!" he shouted, even as Exile began prying itself free of Onix's grasp with its free arm. "Doesn't anything work against this thing?"  
  
Exile burst free even as Gary asked the question, and snagged the enormous rock snake's tail as it fell. With a twist and a pivot, it brought the tail up and over its shoulder, smashing Onix against the ground so hard as to actually make the nigh-impervious Rock type's skin to crack against the unforgiving earth. He swept at the ground, knocking Wartortle and Starmie aside and into a rock outcropping.  
  
"Exile eat tiny squishys! Exile smash! Exile…huh?" A sharp blast of liquid green energy slammed into Exile's back, causing as much disruption in its attention as a gnat buzzing about its head. "Wha-?"  
  
Omega's mech streaked out of the mine's entrance, a red and black blur against the shimmering twilight reflecting on the rocks. He shouldered into Exile, hoping to knock the demon to the ground, but the machine's shoulder joint wasn't up to the task. The Omega Red mech crumpled at the arm, bouncing off of the rock titan and falling to the ground.   
  
Ash was struck dumbfound as he collected Wartortle, returning the injured Pokémon to its ball. "What, you're helping us?" He shouted with hands cupped to his lips. "All right!"  
  
"Dream on, Ketchum!" Omega scoffed, raising his good arm and blasting Exile in the face with a double-barrel full of plasma. This seemed to phase the demon, knocking it onto the ground and giving Omega enough time to rise again. "I'm not about to let anyone else kill you. Once I've taken care of this little problem…" His voice trailed off as Exile rose once more, unscathed and enraged at Omega's last attack. "I could use a little artillery support here!"  
  
"Dat's us!" Jessie, James and Meowth sprinted from the cave with cannons in hand, taking aim and firing wildly in Exile's general direction. Of course, nearly every shot missed, and the teens were forced to scramble to avoid the bazooka blasts that peppered the ground. "Fiiiiiiirreee!"  
  
"Time to hit the gravel pile, ugly!" James called, catching Exile right between the eyes with a well-placed explosive round.  
  
Jessie nailed the demon in the shin, driving it to the ground. "We may be lousy assassins," she snarled, keeping her eye glued to the targeting reticule in her sight, "But we're dynamite shots!"  
  
Brock ducked as another shot singed the topmost spikes on his scalp. "Just make sure the dynamite goes off where it's supposed to!" he screamed, calling Onix back into its Pokéball.  
  
Ash gritted his teeth, watching as Team Rocket joined their unified front against the ancient demon. Powerful as the Omega Mech was, it would prove little more than a drop in the bucket. Already, Exile was back on his monstrous feet, grappling with the titanic armored suit…and winning.  
  
"This isn't working…" he muttered, even as the last licking tendrils of the sunlight vanished behind snowcapped peaks. "We need a plan, we need…something, anything!"  
  
"Ash," Misty shouted, keeping her attention divided between the battle and Ash's sudden introspection, "Get your head back in the game!"  
  
Misty's shrill reprimand seemed to catch Exile's attention. His bloody gaze shifted while he still was locked hand-for-hand with the 'bot. "Hnh?" He grumbled, shoving the mech aside violently. A wave of recognition crossed his rough-hewn features, followed by a deep scowl. "Two Ashuras? That not right! Exile squish both Ashuras!"  
  
Ash was struck with terrified puzzlement. Why did the beast keep calling him 'Ashura?' And what was that 'two' business. He looked over at Misty, preparing to grab her and make a run for it as Exile started his thunderous charge. "What's he talking-"  
  
Misty tossed a glance his way, "What's wrong?" She noticed him staring at her, and brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes, which had a set of carefully drawn Z's resting beneath them on each cheek. "What?"  
  
'He thinks she's a disciple, like me!' Ash's mind screamed at him. "Misty, run!" He cried, snagging her arm and dragging her along. "Run!"  
  
Dizzy from his fall, Omega pulled his mech up onto its knees, raising his undamaged arm and priming the plasma cannons. "Heads up, chump!" he growled, loosing a flurry of green blasts. However, his weapon had suffered a misalignment during the fight, causing the shots to fly wildly above the monster's head. They crashed into the rock face that Exile was stomping towards…  
  
The one that Ash and Misty were standing in front of.  
  
The mountain crumbled beneath Omega's onslaught, bringing tons of rock down around Ash and Misty. Pikachu escaped harm with a burst of electro-kinetic Agility, trailing sparks from his lightning bolt tail as he darted between the deadly dounpour. Ash looked all about him as boulders rained down, looking for an opening. "Misty, get ready to-"  
  
"Ash, LOOK OUT!" Misty screamed. Her hands slammed into his shoulders as she shoved him forward. He tucked and rolled, barely avoiding an enormous boulder that still managed to rattle his teeth on the way down.  
  
Omega's next shot compensated for the crooked sight, nailing Exile in the shoulder and bringing the beast down momentarily as Ash leapt back to his feet. "Misty?" His eyes searched the mound of rubble, darting back and forth. "Misty? Misty!?" Suddenly, his eye caught a flash of red and white; it was Misty's empty Pokéball, still clutched in her limp hand and poking out of a small opening in the boulder pile. "MISTY!"  
  
"PIKA!"  
  
He rushed forward, slamming into the rock pile at nearly full force as he knelt down to dig at the rubble. Rocks flew to either side with a strength Ash never knew he had. Pikachu was hot on his heels, tugging at boulders far too large for the tiny Pokémon to move. "Misty!" Ash screamed again, doing all he could to hold on to the tiny voice of control that remained steadfast in his mind. He cleared away what he could, revealing the bruised and bloodied upper half of his oldest, dearest friend. "Misty, can you hear me?"  
  
Her face was covered in blood, seeping from a half-dozen cuts and tears in her perfect ivory skin. Hair that had been recently dyed black now turned red again as the thick crimson liquid matted its way into her locks. Her clothing was torn in several places, and the skin beneath was already turning a dark purple far more quickly than any bruising could do, which probably meant that she was bleeding internally.  
  
One eye was nearly swollen shut, blackened by a stray rock. The other fluttered open shakily. Her pupil danced, telling Ash that she probably had a hard time focusing. "A…Ash?" she gurgled. Thin streams of blood escaped her lips at the word, breaking Ash's tenuous heart.  
  
"Misty!" he grabbed the sides of her face, cupping her head gently. "Hold on, Misty. Listen to me! You're gonna be-"  
  
"I love you…" the words escaped her lips in a rattle as her one good eye slowly closed. Her chest ceased to rise and fall, even as one last gasp puffed a small cloud of warm air onto Ash's knuckles.  
  
"Misty! MISTY!"  
  
Exile was up again, oblivious to the drama unfolding in front of him. He ignored the bolts of pure plasma that Omega was unloading into his back. He ignored the pitiful blows from the Rocket Trio. He ignored the gang's Water Pokémon as they pumped gallon after gallon at him with incredible pressure. Digging his fingers into the earth, he seemed to concentrate for a moment. Through sheer will, he created a gigantic wave that traveled the ground, rolling at his attackers and knocking them all back and out of the way. "Little warrior going to die, now!" Exile promised Ash, rising to loom over the hysterical boy and his Pokémon.  
  
Ash gritted his teeth, lowering his forehead to rest against Misty's. His lips found their way to hers for one brief second, giving her a peck before standing. Hatless, he was forced to lift the stray triangular locks out of his eyes as he glared up at the titanic golem. "I don't know what you are," he told the beast with a ferocity his voice had never known, "But I swear, you'll pay."  
  
"Small words." Exile chortled thickly. He seemed to be enjoying the moment, like so many others who had gained the upper hand over Ash Ketchum. "Little Goddess-Warrior sad that Exile squish other? Then little warrior going to be very sad." There was pure malice glowing from his red eyes as he reached down, ready to pluck the very head from Ash's shoulders and pop it in his mouth like a grape.  
  
Something within Ash broke; a dam that had blocked something inside of him, something very potent, gave way as all of Ash's anger, all of his sadness, his rage and fear, came together in a single point. It focused inside of him with such power that the excess seeped out from his eyes, giving them a blinding white glow. Even Pikachu was touched by the power, alighting with a brilliance that even its most powerful electrical attacks could not hope to produce.  
  
"NO!"  
  
The power expanded, forming a nimbus of pure white around the three that blinded anyone who looked upon it. Exile screeched in pain as the radiance burned into him, forcing him back lest his earthy skin crumble away. The power spread, forming a sphere of protection that encompassed Ash, Misty, and Pikachu. Wind and thunder swirled about the shield as Pikachu added its own power into the mix. Together, the two created an impenetrable forcefield with an explosive gale howling and blasting away rock and sand.  
  
Brock, Gary and Dixie stood together, gathering their fallen Pokémon. Gary's arms reflexively gathered in front of his eyes as he shielded himself from the dazzling display. "What's going on?!" he shouted to be heard above the roar of the barrier.  
  
"I don't know!" Brock shouted back, wincing as the dust was blown into his eyes. He had never seen anything like this before. "Something's happened to Ash!"  
  
"Ash!" Dixie screamed. "Ash, stop it! Stop it!" she begged to deaf ears. "Brock, what's going on? What's wrong with him?"  
  
"MISTY!" Ash's scream rose above the din, seemingly answering Dixie's question. "MISTY!"  
  
Brock drew in a sharp breath. Misty…the rockslide… "Oh god, no…" he murmured. "Ash, NO!" he screamed. Ash was beyond pain, and he had more power than any of them could have guessed. "Ash!"  
  
* * *  
  
The world had dissolved into a field of white before Ash's eyes even as he screamed. Everything vanished; Pikachu, the rockslide, Exile…even Misty. He fell to his knees, racked with sobs. "Misty," he choked. How had everything gotten so out of hand? Why couldn't he have protected her? He was the one fighting this stupid battle against evil, not her.  
  
"Disciple?"  
  
Ash looked up, spying a familiar figure lurking in the mists. The white haze parted to allow the graceful, beautiful form of the Pokégoddess through. "Wha?"  
  
"Disciple," the Goddess seemed confused as she approached her mortal servant, "How did you-"  
  
Ash leapt forward, grabbing hold of the edge of her wispy gown. "Goddess!" he cried, "Please, help me!"  
  
The pulled the edge of her gown away, taking several steps back. After a millennia of solitude, she was uncomfortable with the idea of physical contact. "I cannot help, Disciple," she told him, "I can only observe-"  
  
"No!" he was down on his knees, crawling forward. "Please, save my friend! I know you can, I know you-"  
  
"I cannot." She said again, this time more firmly. "I am forbidden from interfering from the mortal realm."  
  
"You saved me!" he sobbed, with tears streaming from his eyes. "The first time I met you, you saved me!" His voice became lost in his bawling as he collapsed. "I know you can save her. I'm begging you, I…"  
  
A flash of light blinded him momentarily. When he could see again, he gasped at the sight of Misty's injured form floating in front of him. She hung there with a look of supreme peace on her battered features. A thin stream of light seeped from her chest, trailing off into the ether high above them.  
  
"Look upon the one you hold dear, my child," the Goddess instructed him, "And listen." Ash slowly rose to his feet, wiping his forgotten tears away as his mouth hung in shock. He reached out, passing his hand through the haze of light that bled from Misty. It felt warm and tingled like electricity. "The light you perceive is your friend's life-force…her very essence. Even if I were to repair the physical damage to her body, that that she has already lost is far too much. She is gone."  
  
"No…" he whispered, resting his hand on her stomach. She still felt warm to the touch, but cooling rapidly.  
  
"I am truly sorry, my child." The Goddess overrode her distaste, laying a hand on Ash's shoulder to try and comfort the boy. "Your loss is terrible, but-"  
  
He tossed her arm off, driving her away so forcefully, she could not help but be shocked at such audacity from a mortal. "I. Said. No." he growled, turning on her.  
  
"You have none but yourself to blame, Disciple." The Goddess warned him, regaining her regal composure in an instant. "Had you heeded your mission that you began at the Mountain of the Moon, none of this would have happened. Instead, you neglected-"  
  
"You don't listen very well, do you?" Ash snarled. He did not attack, but instead walked around Misty, letting the girl separate the two of them to add emphasis to what he was about to say. "I won't take 'no' for an answer here." His eyes narrowed as that famous Ketchum determination came into play. "I know you have the power to bring her back. Do it. Now."  
  
"There is no-"  
  
He wasn't about to hear it. "I swear to you," he spoke in low, dangerous words, "If she goes, she won't be the only one."  
  
The Goddess thought for a moment that he was threatening her. Then the look in his eye told her differently, setting her aback. "You wouldn't…"   
  
For the first time since their meeting, Ash saw fear in the Goddess; pure, irrational, and uncertain. "You see this 'loss' right here?" He looked down into Misty's face, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek. "She means everything to me. I…I can't imagine life without her." Even he was surprised at the force of his words. Looking back up at the Goddess, he added, "For six years, she's been right by my side. I'm not about to try going on without her."  
  
The Goddess said nothing for several seconds, matching Ash's stare with hers. Ash, however, was unwavering, and at last, her shoulders sagged with a sigh. "There is one way…" she admitted finally.  
  
"How?"  
  
She gestured to Misty's insensate form, letting it rotate slowly in mid-air. "There is no way of replacing the life-force that she has lost. However…" she hesitated, checking Ash's resolve once more. His eyes were as iron. "We can replace it with another's."  
  
Ash's jaw clenched as he set his chin defiantly in the air. "Fine. Take mine."  
  
"It is not that simple." She considered the situation. "We cannot simply take another's essence and transfer it thusly. We can, however, create a link."  
  
"A link?" He asked. "You mean, she'll have some of my life-thingie?"  
  
She nodded once more, moving to lay a slender, gentle hand on Misty's midsection. "Your life energy will be directly connected to hers. It will no longer be yours, or hers…rather, both of you will share a portion of-"  
  
"Just do it!" he leapt forward, thumping his chest as if there were simply some outlet she could plug into for the procedure. "Save her. Now!"  
  
"A word of caution, Disciple." Her voice became low, startling Ash more than any outburst could have. "Like all decisions, this too will have consequences. You may feel differently afterwards."  
  
"I'm not changing my mind." Ash told her flatly. "Now let's do this."  
  
"Very well." The Goddess' eyes closed for a moment as she gathered her focus. When they opened again, they were pure white, pulsing with a hidden power far greater than anything Ash had ever experienced. Reaching out, her hand brushed against his chest, and he felt a surge of warmth enter into him, spreading even as her other hand rested against the source of Misty's waning life-force. For a moment, everything was fine. Then the world began to spin, swirling in a dizzy display of pristine fog that swallowed the world around him. Even as everything vanished, he could still hear the Goddess' last words lingering in his ears…  
  
*Remember your destiny…*  
  
* * *  
  
Brock was down on the ground, shielding Dixie as best he could from the maelstrom as it continued to rage on, with Ash, Misty and Pikachu at the epicenter. Gary as next to him, covering Samurai in much the same way.  
  
"Look!" Gary's voice rose above the howling winds. Brock looked up just in time to see the nimbus of white energy collapse around his friend. In the distance he could see Ash fall to the ground, planting his face into the dirt. He could hardly see Misty, and Pikachu was nowhere to be found. Gary launched himself back onto his feet even as Exile and Team Rocket's metal leviathan were lumbering back into a fray of their own. "What happened?"  
  
"I don't know," Brock helped Dixie up, re-shouldering his own pack, "C'mon!" He led the charge across the scorched battlefield as the Omega Mech and Exile slugged it out. "Ash! ASH!" His feet skidded against loose rock as he reached his fallen friends, dropping to his knees and cradling Ash in his arms. He slapped the boy's face a few times, trying to revive him. Other than a few cuts and bruises, Ash was completely unharmed. "I don't get it..." he muttered hysterically, "He just fainted."  
  
"Oh my God!" Dixie knelt by Misty's exposed torso, checking over her. "It looks like she's been through a wringer! Her pulse is really weak, Brock!"  
  
Gary watched as Exile took the upper hand in his fight against Omega, terrified with each blow that the demon threw. "We need to get back to the chopper," he insisted, eyeing their ticket out of there and praying that Exile took no notice of it. "We can get out of here, we can call the Army or something-"  
  
"No," Brock shook his head, lifting Ash's unresponsive eyelids and checking his pupils. "You can't stop these things like that…" On a hunch, he searched through Ash's jacket, coming up with a familiar black sphere. It was cold to the touch, and tingled faintly against his clammy hands. "I remember these things…"  
  
AUGH!  
  
A short, tinny scream was all Omega could manage as Exile tore into the mech's cold steel frame. By the looks of things, the demon had grown tired of the fight; he ripped the robot's arm straight from its socket and plunged it, hand first, straight into its chest. Then, reaching up, Exile gripped the mech's cockpit on either side and crushed it as easily as if it were an egg. Streams of hydraulic fluid and coolant spurted like blood, flowing freely down the ruined armor and dripping from Exile's massive hands as he let the ruined, useless machine fall to the ground.  
  
Jessie turned to James, lowering her empty bazooka. "I think it's time Team Rocket blasted off again…" she said wide-eyed. "What do you think?" James wasn't there; his and Meowth's weapons lay discarded on the ground, the only evidence of their ever being there. "James? Meowth?"  
  
"We're three steps ahead of you!" James called out from halfway up the ridge. "Hurry up! Meowth already has the balloon ready to go up top!"  
  
"You could have WAITED for me!" Jessie screeched, rushing to catch up and struggling in her knee-high heeled boots.  
  
* * *  
  
Dixie's stomach did its third flip-flop as she watched Omega's mech fall motionless onto the ground. She bit her lip, wrapping her arms around Ash's torso and preparing to move him as best as she could while Brock tried to dig Misty from the rock slide. "We aren't going to make it, are we?" she whispered, glancing over at Brock.  
  
He looked up, risking a glance towards Gary's helicopter. The other boy had already made a break for it, stopping just long enough for a detour to collect Samurai and toss him into the back hatch. The rotors were beginning to spin lazily, kicking up a cyclone of dust, but they wouldn't reach full speed in time. "Just make sure you get Pikachu, too." The Pokémon, like its trainer, still had not woken up. If the situation came to it, Brock would have to make sure that his friends got away. "Dixie, I want you to do something for me: Take my Pokémon out of my pack, and make sure they get out okay."  
  
"No Brock!" Dixie protested, tugging harder on Ash. She only managed to drag him a few feet further, and was certain that she couldn't get him there alone. "I'm not leaving-"  
  
"Don't argue!" Brock could hear Exile's stomping footsteps growing closer. In another few seconds, he would be upon them for certain. "I'll lead him away. Have Gary swing around and-"  
  
"Brock."  
  
Ash's sudden revival scared Dixie so badly that she dropped him like a sack of flour, cracking his head on the hard ground below. He hardly seemed to notice, keeping his tone low and even. "Get to the chopper," he instructed his surrogate big brother, "Just in case."  
  
"Ash!" Brock helped his friend to his feet, thankful that he was all right. "We have to-"  
  
"Get to the chopper." Ash said again. His voice was eerily calm, his eyes unwavering and cold. When Dixie looked into them, it was as if she was looking at a different person. "Both of you." He added at her questioning glance. "I know what to do."  
  
"Ash, I-"  
  
He ignored Brock's insistence, looking to his insensate partner. "Pikachu." His voice clipped crisply. The Pokémon's eyes snapped open as if awakening from a strange dream. It sat up slowly, rising to its haunches as it looked up to Ash. "Let's go."  
  
Dixie tugged at his arm. "Ash, you can't just-" She stopped, shocked at his cold shoulder treatment; he never even acknowledged her. Instead, his other hand raised, aimed at the Demon Ball Brock had discovered and discarded from his jacket. It rose into the air, trailing a fine streamer of dust before it snapped into his waiting hand as if by magic. Eyes wide with amazement, Dixie could only watch as Ash began walking towards the approaching Exile.  
  
"Ash…" she whispered, starting after him.  
  
A strong hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked back to Brock, who shook his head. "For better or worse," Brock sighed, "This is something he has to do."  
  
"I don't understand…" Dixie wailed. Hot tears of anger and fear trickled down her cheeks. "Brock, I-"  
  
He pulled her aside, drawing her close to Misty so that he could do his best to keep both girls safe. "I don't either, Dixie." He assured her, wiping the tears away as they watched Ash go off into battle, "But I believe in him."  
  
* * *  
  
Each step that Exile took shook the ground, sending loose rocks and dust flying into the air. It made Ash glad, for the quaking hid his own nervous knocking knees and trembling fists locked down at his side. His hand squeezed around the Demon Ball so hard, he was certain his fingerprints were pressed into its smooth obsidian surface. "Pikachu," he intoned as the titanic beast drew near, "Are you ready?"  
  
"Pika. Pika-pi." Ash didn't need to see his partner to know his take on the situation, and he agreed one hundred percent; they were in serious trouble if this didn't work.  
  
Exile looked down at his miniscule opponents, chortling with a booming voice that shook Ash to his very core and washed over him in festering waves of rancid breath. "So," Exile laughed, "Little Ashura squishy want to be first to die?"  
  
"No," Ash retorted calmly, keeping his fear in check as he raised the Demon Ball for Exile to see. Like Missingno's had a year before, it began to glow in the presence of its former prisoner with a hellish crimson aura. "Little squishy is going to kick the crap out of you. Then I'm going to stuff your titanic butt back in its cage."  
  
"Haw! Ashura-born make Exile laugh." Exile guffawed, leaning over so that its massive face was only a few feet from Ash's. "Exile can squish tiny's head like grape. What squishy going do about it?"  
  
Ash traded a calm glance with Pikachu, who nodded in response. "Pikachu," Ash intoned as he looked back to Exile. "Flash."  
  
Electricity began splaying across Pikachu's skin, just as it had before, but at a much higher rate. Several stray bolts charged the air around them, snapping around so wildly that even the mighty demon pulled back in surprise. Even as Ash's hair began to stand on end, Pikachu brought the charge back within itself. A split second later, its skin exploded in a dazzling burst of light, a hundred times brighter than it had used in the cave. Ash stood there, surrounded in light, an angel squared off against the darkness. The sight filled Dixie with tears before she couldn't stand to look anymore, forced away by Pikachu's brilliance. The light forced Gary back to the ground, lest he crash their only means of escape. It drowned out the aurora borealis, turning dusk into day for everyone within half a mile of the thundermouse.  
  
Exile found himself at the heart of the luminous maelstrom, bathed in pure white light. It seared his stony features, burning away at the armored rock on his hide and striking deep within him. There was no part of him that the light couldn't touch, and every inch of it burned like no other pain the creature had ever faced. He roared in agony. He screamed, begged Pikachu to stop. He struck around blindly, trying to find the source of his pain and end it. He cursed Ash's bones, promising to eat them as soon as he could find them. But try as he might, he could not stop the light.  
  
Ash clutched the ball to his chest, feeling a power within him stir once more. With skill he never knew he had, he released the power into the ball, feeling the energies enter the sphere and charge it with an even greater power. Its red aura began to challenge Pikachu's blinding radiance, piercing the pure white so that Exile could see. The flash of red struck fear into his cold empty core as he recoiled from the light. He scrambled backwards as quickly as he could, but Ash was already in motion.  
  
"Dark one!" Ash shouted, his voice taking on an unnatural bass resonance, "Your time here is at an end. Return to thy urn and thy imprisonment!" For an instant, if anyone could have seen Ash's eyes through the dust, the dirt and the light, they might have caught the flash of gold alighting his dark amber irises as the ball's radiance grew, surrounding the boy in a fearsome red glow. "Exile," he shouted, drawing his arm back, "Return!"  
  
The ball flew forward in a practiced pitch, one that Ash had spent years honing carefully in his travels and training. It streaked forward, propelled unnaturally by the nimbus of energy surrounding it, and struck Exile square in the forehead. Exile's tortured howl echoed across the landscape as the Demon Ball began drawing his spirit from the rock, peeling away the layers of earth and stone and sucking the dark core within. Black energies flowed into the ball like a thousand miniscule vortices. An eternity later, the ball dropped to the ground, and Pikachu at last ceased its light show.  
  
The canyon became eerily quiet as Ash slowly approached the ball. His friends and comrades collected themselves on the sidelines, rubbing the stars from their eyes as the unwitting hero stepped closer and closer. A thin wisp of smoke trailed from the ball, which sat quietly on the ground. Slowly, carefully, Ash reached down and picked it up, gripping it firmly.  
  
Dixie was the first to approach him. She came from behind, watching him stare at the ball as if hypnotized by its strange beauty. "A…Ash?" she advanced cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.  
  
The touch seemed to snap him out of his trance. He dropped the ball and flew like the wind toward his fallen friend. "Misty!" he cried, brushing past Dixie as if she weren't there and rushing to Misty's side. "MISTY!"  
  
Misty's eyes were open, gazing up at the sky with a glazed, unfocused look. "Ash," she murmured… "I think I hear Ash…"  
  
"Misty," he pushed everyone else aside, dropping down and clutching her hand in his own. "Misty, c'mon, it's me. Speak to me, Misty!"  
  
She looked up at him with a goofy smile spreading across her cracked, bleeding lips. "Hey, there he is…" she giggled thickly. "Hi Ash…" She seemed to consider his features for a moment, reaching up to his dirt-encrusted brow. "You're filthy…and your hat is gone."  
  
Despite the seriousness of her injuries, he chuckled. "You don't look so good yourself, Aqua Girl." He informed her, nuzzling her hand to his face. "You gave us quite the scare, there."  
  
Misty sobered instantly as the cogs in her foggy mind began to turn. "Did we win?" she asked. "Did we beat the bad guys?"  
  
Ash considered everything that had happened in the last few hours; How his destiny had come roaring back at him with a vengeance, how Team Rocket had almost killed the people that he loved…how close he had come to losing her. "Yeah," he lied, stroking her cheek. "We won."  
  
He stayed by her side until the rescue choppers were called in, and even after. The entire time, Brock and Gary attended to Samurai as best they could, leaving Dixie to her own devices. Through it all, neither Ash nor Misty noticed a hurt pair of eyes glaring jealously at them…they were in their own world for as long as life would allow them the quiet pause.  
  
* * *  
  
A chime sounded deep within the headquarters of Team Rocket, the most feared of the world's organized crime syndicates. It emanated from a small intercom sitting atop a highly polished oak desk, distracting the furniture's owner from his stacks and stacks of reports. An unwanted interruption would most certainly have been unwanted, and may have resulted in the death of a careless underling. However, he had been expecting a visit to his underground, fortified office, and a quick check in his hidden video monitor told him that his appointment was right on time.  
  
"Enter," he called gruffly as he released the seventeen different locks on his door. As the last locking bar slid away, the door opened to allow a youthful blonde clad in a black jumpsuit. He entered quickly and q quietly, standing at attention in front of the man's desk.  
  
"Delta, reporting as ordered, Mister Giovanni." The assassin snapped a crisp salute before returning to parade rest.  
  
"Sit down." Giovanni offered the chair on the other side, double-checking that the booby traps hidden within the seat were deactivated. He pulled out the proper file, tossing it to the young man. "I want a progress report on the status of Omega Red."  
  
"Of course, sir." Delta nodded. He knew that the report Giovanni wanted was the one that he had just tossed to Delta, and he knew very well that they both knew what it said. However, if Team Rocket's commander wanted you to dress like Charlie Chaplin and tap dance, well, you'd be wise to find a black bowler and moustache. "Alpha is currently on assignment in Rome. I expect him back in three days or so, depending on the target's security measures. Tau has made a full recovery, and our scientists report that her new pseudomuscular system is at least fifty percent stronger than the last model."  
  
Giovanni nodded. "What about that ugly business with Psi?"  
  
Delta couldn't help but grimace. "His regen treatments are complete. He's on vacation right now, and very seriously considering retirement."  
  
"Do whatever it takes to convince him otherwise. I can't afford to lose my disguise master, after all."  
  
"Yes sir." Giovanni returned to his work, paying Delta no further attention. The assassin hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat. "Um, sir."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I doubt you would have called me down here to recite a report to you…"  
  
It was exactly what Giovanni had been waiting for; Delta was obedient, but not afraid to speak his mind, even to one as fearsome as he. He flipped a switch behind his desk and pivoted to face the left wall. In response, one of his portraits slid aside to reveal a video monitor. "Quite right. Tell me what you make of this."  
  
Images began flashing on the screen; the interior of a cave, dank and lit by artificial means, with people looking up at the camera. One glowering, cherubic face in particular caught Delta's eye. "That's the Ketchum boy." He blurted before remembering his place.  
  
Giovanni nodded. "This is the telemetry taken from Omega's vehicle shortly before his demise.  
  
Delta was floored. "Commander Omega is dead?" he breathed.  
  
"Yes. And I want you to be his replacement."   
  
"I…I would be honored." Delta managed to eek out. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure in an instant. He wasn't about to prove Giovanni's choice a foolish one only moments after it was made. "Shall I organize a team strike against the target, sir? I won't fail you where my predecessor did."  
  
"Keep watching." Was all that Giovanni said, pointing back at the monitor. The scene continued to play out, including the battle with the fantastic creature that seemed to be made out of rock.. Then, without warning, something happened to the boy; he seemed to be engulfed in a blinding light, one that even Omega's equipment had not been able to make sense of. At first, Delta wrote it off as a flash bang, or perhaps some kind of electric shield generated by his Pikachu. The more he watched, however, the more it became apparent that the nimbus of energy was emanating from him, that he was somehow producing the shield. "I…I don't understand."  
  
"You don't have to." Giovanni told him flatly, handing him another manila folder. "Here are your orders for the time being. I'm reassigning Jessie and James to the Ketchum boy's case. Observation only. In the meantime, Ash Ketchum is not to be harmed. Understood?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Dismissed."  
  
Delta stood to leave, making for the door. He paused as he was reaching for the knob, turning about. "Sir?" At Giovanni's inquiring glance, he said, "I'd like to bring in a fifth man to round out the team roster."  
  
"Do you have someone in mind?"  
  
With a small smile, Delta replied, "I just might, sir." That said, he left quickly, ready to attend to his new duties as Omega's successor. In the meantime, Giovanni had rewound the telemetry tape, freezing it at the point where Ash had begun to glow with the strange white aura.  
  
"So, Satoshi," he murmured, leaning his chin against his fists as he pondered his next move. "You never told me you had a son. Small wonder….It seems he inherited your 'talents', didn't he? Well," his face split into a bemused grin, "Where we failed with the father, we shall succeed with the son…won't we, old partner?"  
  
* * *  
  
For the second time in as many days, Ash found himself standing in a courtroom, ready to defend his way of life against a system he had left behind months ago. This time, however, he was dressed not as a defendant, but as a trainer; his tattered blue jeans, faded black T-shirt, black Silph jacket and half-demolished League hat. His friends sat at the back, silent but supportive as he stood opposite Gary, Lorelei and Agatha in front of Judge Evans and his bulky bailiff.  
  
"Mr. Ketchum…" Judge Evans sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You've been a particularly aggravating case, young man. You have very interesting, very loyal, and," he added with a glare towards the rear of the room, "Very foolish friends."  
  
"No objection here, your honor." Ash smiled, possibly for the only time that day.  
  
"I'm willing to drop the charges of fraud against your companions, Mr. Ketchum," Evans continued, "Assuming that you are willing to abide by the defense they concocted for you." He saw Ash nod once, and rubbed his jaw in thought. "Very well. Would you like to make a closing statement?"  
  
"No, I don't think so." Ash told him, standing with unnatural calm in his poise and voice. "Considering the fact that I wasn't here for the actual case, I don't think it would be appropriate."  
  
Evans merely turned to Gary. "Counselor? Your closing statement."  
  
Gary strode to the front of the room with purpose in each step, never taking his eyes off of the judge. "Your honor," he began, "It is in the opinion of the prosecution that the charges against Mr. Ashlan T. Ketchum be dropped immediately."  
  
"NO!" Lorelei practically leapt from her seat, but Evans' banging gavel soon brought her under control. She was told in no uncertain terms that she was to remain quiet, or suffer the consequences.  
  
"You honor," Gary continued, "I've seen more than my share of adventure and amazement in my lifetime. I've seen creatures that would take your breath away, or make your blood run cold. But it's only a tenth of what this man has seen." He gestured to Ash, still looking to Evans as he spoke. "Ash Ketchum has helped people all over the world, in any way he can, without a single thought towards his own well-being. With every person he meets, I truly believe that the first thing that runs through his mind is 'How can I help this person? How can I make their life better?' Your honor, Ash Ketchum is a hero, a champion, and…a comrade." At this, he gave a glance in Ash's direction. His old rival was astonished at the poetry of Gary's words, but gave him an encouraging nod nonetheless. "If you take away his license, you won't just be doing him a disservice...You'll be taking something away from everyone."  
  
Evans seemed to consider these words as everyone took their seats, waiting with bated breath. "Very stirring words, Mr. Oak. I take it that you're advocating the dismissal of all charges, then?"  
  
Despite Agatha and Lorelei's caustic glares, Gary answered, "Yes sir."  
  
"Well," Evans picked up a few sheets of paper, looking through them. "You make quite a convincing argument, Mr. Oak. Unfortunately," he peered over the rims of his spectacles, "Your first argument was far more powerful than this last-minute change of heart."  
  
"No!"  
  
It was Gary's turn for an outburst, but Evans pushed on through as if he had never spoken. Instead, his gaze fell on Ash, stern and icy. "Mr. Ketchum, you may be a fine trainer…you may have even garnered the respect and admiration of some of this League's finest competitors…but that does not change the fact that you, young man, have a blatant and utter disregard for the rules and regulations of the Indigo League." He pulled up a rubber stamp, bringing it down on an officious-looking document. "Your trainer's license is hereby revoked. You have ten days in which to transfer registration and ownership to a licensed trainer or breeder, and are forbidden from reapplying for an Indigo license for no less than five years. I hope, for your sake and for the sake of your Pokémon, that you learn some responsibility and respect for the rules." He hefted his gavel, pounding it on the bench before rising. "Case dismissed."  
  
Agatha and Lorelei tossed Ash a smug glare before sauntering out of the room, leaving only Ash and Gary standing near the front. Gary approached Ash slowly, unsure of where to begin. Ash's eyes were down, covered by a mess of black hair and the bill of his hat. "Ash, I…I'm so sorry. I never wanted it to be like this, Ash, I swear…"  
  
"Thanks Gary." The voice escaped in an instant, cutting Gary off at the knees. There was no sarcasm to it, no bitterness. As he looked up, with tears threatening the edges of his vision, Gary could see honest thanks in his eyes. "Thank you."  
  
With a swallow, Gary tried to sum up what he had wanted to say to Ash for the past year. There was so much he had to say, so many apologies he needed to get out, but in the end, he summed it up best; "I've always been your rival, Ash. But I'm tired of being your enemy. I…I'd like to be your friend."  
  
"You were never my enemy, Gary." Ash's hand thrust between the two, which Gary gladly took. "My enemies try to kill me. Last I checked, you never did that."  
  
The humor brought a sardonic chuckle between the two as Brock, Dixie and Pikachu approached, pushing Misty ahead of them. She had raised fire and brimstone when the hospital had insisted that she remain confined in a wheelchair until the regeneration treatments were completed, but the forceful nurses had won out in the end. "Looks like you two have patched things up," the now raven-haired redhead smirked.  
  
"'Bout time, too." Brock added. Dixie was unusually quiet, which worried Ash a bit. She had been so ever since the battle the day before, but he chalked it up to the oddity of the situation. After all, he had been given a year to get used to the idea. She had gotten less than twenty-four hours so far. "So," Brock asked, "What's the plan?"  
  
"I'm heading back to the island with the Elite Two there." Gary piped in, gathering his files and tucking them under his arm. "There are some things I can look into, some people I can get in contact with." His jaw set tightly as he looked to Ash. "After seeing something like that, I can't just stand around and do nothing. I want to help." At Ash's nod, he added, "Oh, but first things first, I need to set up a press conference."  
  
"A what?" Misty asked, confused as the rest of them.  
  
"Everyone deserves to know the truth." Gary reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, yellow and black badge with the stylized league 'L' in the center. "I didn't do anything to deserve this. Here." He tossed it back to Ash. Though his mannerisms were casual, they could hear the strain in his voice. "You keep it. It was never mine to begin with."  
  
Ash caught the badge, turning it over in his fingers as Gary left the scene. Things were changing so fast that his head couldn't help. But at the same time, he was glad; some of the changes were more than welcome. "C'mon, guys," he said, tucking the badge into his jacket before pushing Misty in her wheelchair, "We've got-"  
  
"Ash," Gear interjected his heroic walk-into-the-sunset mood, "I hate to interrupt, but Dixie has received an e-mail."  
  
The trivial comment caught Ash off-guard. "Huh? Oh, hang on." He began working Gear loose from his wrist. "We'll give you some privacy, and-"  
  
"Ash, you…" Gear seemed almost apologetic, as much so as a watch could. "You may want to see it as well." Before he could say anything else, Gear activated her screen, playing the message Dixie had received. The image flickered for a moment before coalescing into a familiar young man with sandy brown hair and large, sad eyes.  
  
"To Ms. Mason," the boy spoke softly. "In response to your message yesterday."  
  
"Richie?" Ash, Misty and Brock gasped in unison. They hadn't heard anything from him since he had been taken by the paramedics at Mount Moon, and suddenly he was calling Dixie. The even bigger shock, though, was Dixie's reaction. She looked at the tiny screen with watering eyes, hardly recognizing the person on the other end.  
  
"Ricky?" she sniffed.  
  
* * *  
  
"So, you have failed in your mission."  
  
Shades ignored the comment, standing before the Americorp council once again. This time, though, he was alone. With a sickening feeling, he realized just how alone he was.  
  
Spike was dead.  
  
"You realize, of course," The shadowy speaker continued, "That none of your standard fees will be honored. In addition, we will disavow any prior dealings with you. Any attempt to force the matter will be met with most 'unpleasant' reactions. On a personal note," he added darkly, "We are deeply disappointed with the way you and your partner handled this particular case. I do not believe Americorp will be calling upon your particular services again, Mr. Shades."  
  
"So it's the pink slip, huh?" Shades growled.  
  
"You are dismissed." The entire room blacked out, leaving Shades standing in just enough light to find the door. He strode out, filled with bitterness and blinding anger. Exiting the meeting room, he was forced to walk the long corridor by himself, with only his thoughts to comfort him.  
  
Those children.  
  
Those BLASTED children!  
  
"Kind of makes you mad, doesn't it?"  
  
The unexpected voice stopped Shades in his tracks. His gun was drawn even before he turned to meet the stranger, wondering if Americorp had decided to ensure his silence the old fashioned way. Instead, he found a blonde, tall man with sparkling blue eyes and a red-and-black jumpsuit leaning against the wall. He wore a bemused grin on his face and a sidearm strapped to his hip that his crossed arms couldn't reach if Shades so decided.  
  
Shades regarded the man, never letting his pistol drift off-target. His eyes narrowed behind his trademark glasses as he pressed gently on the trigger, hovering a few ounces away from firing. "And you are?"  
  
"Delta. A pleasure, Mr. Shades." He indicated the gun. "I'd shake your hand, but something tells me you aren't happy to see me."  
  
"You Team Rocket types screwed the mission up. You cost me my partner."  
  
He shrugged. "I could say the same for you, Shades. But we both know who's really responsible."  
  
"The children."  
  
"That's the way I see it." Delta had lamented his hesitation to kill Ash for months now, and he intended on rectifying the decision. Honor or no honor, debt or no debt, orders or no, the boy would die. "Now, I'm a hand short, and you…well, it looks like you could use a career change."  
  
Shades eyeballed the assassin carefully. At last, he lowered his gun, keeping it close at his side. "How do I know I can trust you?" he finally asked.  
  
"You can't. But what do you have to lose?"  
  
Shades' thoughts drifted back to his departed partner. Spike had been the only person he could confide in, the only one he had trusted. With him gone, where did he go now? "What indeed?" he finally admitted, offering up the handshake Delta had been unable to give.  
  
Delta took his olive hand, shaking it briskly with a warm smile. "Welcome to the team," he greeted the newest Omega Red, "Agent Sigma."  
  
End  
  
-Quiet Hindsight-  
  
And thus concludes an epic chapter in the BadgeQuest saga! Yes, I know I'm full of myself, but that's okay once in a while, isn't it?  
  
I'll assume that your deadpanned silence is a rousing agreement. Anywho, coming up next time is the season finale of BadgeQuest Season Two. So stay tuned, same Pika-time, same Pika-channel!  
  
Next: BadgeQuest: The America Chronicles #7  
  
The Big Goodbye 


	6. Bonus Feature

The Hidden Machines Revealed  
  
Journal of Pokémon Science and Research  
  
Volume CXXIII, Issue 37  
  
Page 94-98  
  
Professor Samuel Oak, PHD, MD, DDS  
  
Professor James Mason, an American researcher and student of the great Professor Oak, began development of a fantastic new technique machine project several years back. It was only recently that this project came to fruition, resulting in the culmination of five prototypes of a new type of technique machine. The new TMs would be reusable, the first of their kind to do so. In addition, they would not simply teach a new move, but rather encode upon a compatible user the gift of a new ability.  
  
Before he could go public with his discovery, it became apparent that unwanted attention was being given to his project from the corporate sector. Because of this, he entrusted his five prototypes to five of his most loyal laboratory assistants. They were to hide and protect the prototypes until such a time as Mason could bring sufficient attention to the unwanted advances of Americorp. As a result of his misdirection, the new TMs were dubbed the "Hidden Machines."  
  
Unfortunately, Professor Mason died before he could see his works thrive completely. However, his prototypes were successfully recovered by his granddaughter, Ms. Dixon Mason. And now, for the first time anywhere, I give you a brief look at the miraculous new technology, the Hidden Machines.  
  
HM 01  
  
Cut  
  
The first of the Hidden Machines is often written off as the least fantastic of the bunch. However, it is quite possibly the most useful of all five, as it has the most potential usage of all five. After all, one may not have to walk on water, or lift fifteen tons, but one certainly needs to clear brush and obstacles, and what better way than to simply slice them out of the way? In addition, HM 01 is one of the two Hidden Machines that employs a change to the Pokémon's superstructure.  
  
Combat Potential:  
  
Upon uploading the genetic data encoded within the chip, the Pokémon gains a lethally sharp edge on one or more of its limbs. Some Pokémon already possess the necessary edge, in which case the Machine simply improves upon existing facilities. In either case, the organic blade possesses a lethal mono-edge, sharp enough to pierce nearly any and all substances with great ease. Clearly, this is an ideal form of attack, as even a Pokémon faced with an elemental disadvantage, or against a foe possessing superior natural armor (such as in the case of Rock, Ground and Steel types), the Cut maneuver can even the odds.  
  
Non-Combat Potential:  
  
However, combat is not the only purpose of the Hidden Machines. As such, each possesses certain day-to-day uses. In the case of 01, it is most useful for clearing away brush and obstructions.   
  
HM 02  
  
Fly  
  
One of the more fantastic of the Machines, 02 gives the gift of expanded aerial capabilities to Pokémon who can already fly. While this HM possesses the most limited of compatible Pokémon from which to choose, the advantages it offers are staggering.  
  
Combat Potential:  
  
While in combat, a Flying type can activate its HM power in order to levitate an opponent off of the ground. In many cases, this renders its opponent completely helpless and unable to dodge whatever follow-up attacks the Pokémon delivers. Upon brief testing, I have found that this move is ineffective against Ground types, who are able to burrow beneath the ground, thus avoiding the attack. Naturally, the move is equally ineffective against other Flying types, for obvious reasons.  
  
Non-Combat Potential:  
  
If the advantages 02 offers in combat are priceless, then we must create a new category far beyond that value for its benefits in regular life. A Flying type with this new power has the capability of prolonged levitation of multiple objects, allowing it to fly unencumbered while still carrying passengers and/or cargo. In short, 02 offers completely uninhibited flight. The number of objects the Pokémon is able to carry simultaneously is dependent on its relative strength and level. In the case of the first test subject, the Pokémon had no problems levitating three passengers at once.  
  
HM 03  
  
Surf  
  
Surf offers yet more proof into my thus far underappreciated theory that a Pokémon does not simply utilize its element, but rather shares a fundamental connection to it. In this case, it would be Water types' manipulation of bodies of water.  
  
Combat Potential:  
  
To utilize 03 in combat, a Pokémon first needs a fair amount of water; between nine and twelve cubic meters seems to be the ideal amount, but it can be performed with as little as three, with more subdued results. Lacking a natural body of water, the Pokémon in question can summon the water from its own body, gathering it about itself rather than allowing it to simply dissipate into its environment. Once sufficient water has been gathered, the Pokémon creates a localized tidal wave that delivers a crushing blow of pure aquatic force to its opponent. The move is devastating, and difficult to dodge.  
  
Non-Combat Potential:  
  
The true miracle of 03, however, lies outside of the ring. Traversing water has always been a difficulty for beginning and experienced trainers alike. However, 03 solves all of this. A Pokémon utilizing the Surf ability is able to gather water beneath itself, then condense it to the point where it forms a solid shelf. Despite this increase in density, the Pokémon is still somehow able to maintain the water shelf at surface level. The trainer, with cargo, is then able to ride this shelf to wherever he or she chooses. As with 02, the weight and item restrictions are dependent on the level of the Pokémon performing the move.  
  
HM 04  
  
Strength  
  
The second of the HMs that alter a Pokémon's physiology, Strength is supremely advantageous to Pokémon that excel at hand-to-hand confrontations. The Machine targets a Pokémon's muscle and skeletal structure, completely redesigning it to increase strength to previously unthinkable levels.  
  
Combat Potential:  
  
Clearly, an increase in strength is an enormous boon to Pokémon that lack the greater elemental ability that others possess (Tauros is a prime example here). However, the HM is not limited to these specific types; on the contrary, 04 is possibly the most versatile of the five prototypes.   
  
Non-Combat Potential:  
  
The gift of super-strength can clearly be used to remove unwanted obstructions while traveling, similar to 01's non-combat potential. To put it simply, 04 is useful for the lifting and toting of heavy objects.  
  
HM 05  
  
Flash  
  
Flash is the last, possibly most powerful of the five Hidden Machines. While its technique cannot cause damage to a Pokémon, its uses outside of the ring, as well as its non-lethal attack, prove to be among the most powerful of any techniques.  
  
Combat Potential:  
  
While in combat, a Pokémon equipped with Flash is able to summon an immense burst of photonic energy, with their body at the focal point. Because of this, the Pokémon suffers none of the repercussions of the move. Those outside of the focal point, however, are subject to a massive amount of white light, temporarily blinding them and impairing their vision for the duration of the match, time depending.  
  
Non-Combat Potential:  
  
When confronted with situations involving low-level lighting, a trainer may use his Pokémon, properly equipped with Unit 05, to shed some light on the subject. While it initially appeared that the Pokémon merely summoned the light and continued to radiate as needed, further testing suggests that the Pokémon possesses a modicum of photonic control; that is, it can manipulate the light as it sees fit, illuminating anything, anywhere.  
  
As you can see, the secrets of the Hidden Machines have only begun to reveal themselves. I'm hoping that, with time and luck, I will be able to reproduce Professor Mason's extraordinary discovery, giving the world a safe, efficient, and reusable Technique Machine that will prove to be invaluable to both veteran and beginning trainers alike. His sacrifice will not be in vain, and his discovery will be shared with the world at a proper time. His dream will be realized.  
  
Professor Samuel Oak  
  
Owner, Founder, Curator and Chief Researcher  
  
Oak Institute for Pokémon Research and Development  
  
In loving memory of Jim Mason  
  
His dream lives on… 


End file.
